Absolute Beginners
by SeraphJewel
Summary: Two people who think they have everything all planned out discover they couldn't be more wrong. Finding each other could have been the best thing to happen to either one of them...
1. One

Disclaimer: I don't own iZombie or any of the characters.

 **Absolute Beginners**

 _One_

Blaine sat rubbing his temples, grateful for the space to breathe and think in peace. And of all places, for it to be in the basement of a funeral home... But beggars couldn't be choosers, and after recent events he really needed this. Once his head stopped throbbing he got up to pace the room. He was struck by a sudden desire that was immediately followed by pain.

Grandpa. Blaine's eyes drifted to where he kept the man's brain. He thought he was being so clever, but the plan blew up in his face. His grandfather was dead _for nothing_. If he ever found the one who was killing zombies, they would pay. Until then, missing the talks and the close bond was pointless. His cell phone ringing cut through his thoughts and he fished it out of his pocket, wondering what new problem needed his attention.

"Hello."

"Hi, John Deaux? This is Peyton Charles." His mood took a complete one-eighty, a smile forming on his lips.

"It's good to hear from you, Peyton." Her name rolled off easily even though they only met twice. "Or maybe not so good, since I told you to call if you were worried about the tiny terrible Boss. Has he threatened you again?"

"No, but one of his people was found dead and strung up to a Christmas tree, another was brought in for questioning, and Boss himself was in the police station not long ago." Blaine let out a whistle. So he wasn't the only one having a rough day.

"I'm guessing this story doesn't end with Stacey Boss behind bars."

"If it did, you and I would be celebrating with spiked eggnog right now." There was a brief silence and then Peyton's voice was back: "Now that I say it out loud, spiked eggnog sounds really good. You up for it even without the jailed Boss?"

"You know," he said, "you're right. That _does_ sound really good. I'm in."

Blaine didn't usually do anything without a plan, yet an hour later he did exactly that as he met up with Peyton. He went with dress casual: dark jeans and a blue collar shirt with a warm jacket thrown on. Then Peyton showed up and he stopped feeling the cold entirely. Though she was casually dressed in a sweater, pants and boots, she was still gorgeous. As much as Blaine wanted to knock Boss off his pedestal, he was grateful for the man at the moment.

"All right, mister. I brought the good stuff," she announced, holding up the liquor. "Let's make some Christmas spirit."

Blaine couldn't remember the last time he made spiked eggnog with anyone, and certainly not with this much fun. Peyton managed to keep up with his banter and brought out a few laughs. By the time they created the perfect drink, all the crap of earlier was far out of his mind. They filled two thermoses and took their drinks out while looking at Christmas lights and talking. Peyton proved to be very easy to talk with. She initially impressed him with facing down Stacey Boss, but now he found she was funny, smart, witty and with just the right amount of quirky.

"I can't say I've met many women who consider _Gremlins_ to be a Christmas classic," he remarked in amusement, sipping his drink. "You're such a weirdo."

"Says the guy who can call both Led Zepplin and Frederic Chopin his 'jam'," she retorted. That got him to laugh again. It was so nice to hang out with someone and not talk about zombies or brains or tainted Utopium. Blaine had no idea how badly he needed someone like this until she was here.

They continued down the street, pausing now and then to give commentary on the light displays. The conversation drifted from favorite music and bands to favorite movie actors.

"Jimmy Stewart?" Peyton awed. "No way."

"I've only seen _Rope_ about ten times," he told her, shrugging his shoulders casually.

"Only ten, huh? Then you've got a ways to go to catch up with me and _Vertigo_." Blaine was liking this woman more by the minute.

"I do a pretty good Jimmy Stewart impression. Want to hear it?"

"I'm afraid I'll have to insist on it." He obliged, using a few famous Stewart quotes and loving how it made her smile. "So you were being modest when you said 'pretty good'," she noted.

"I like to lower people's expectations so they end up being that much more impressed."

"Looks like it works."

This was so easy, and he hardly had to try at all. It was wonderful and strange knowing that just being himself was enough. They tilted toward each other and met halfway for a kiss. This was the first kiss since Blaine was given the cure and he could feel the difference: the rush of pleasure and excitement that did _not_ result in a rage-out, the taste of her lips sweetened by the spiked eggnog, the peace of only having his own thoughts and emotions, the warmth of her body as she responded…

They parted but stayed close, enjoying the intimacy of the after-moment. Blaine played with her hair and found her fingers doing the same in his. They grinned at each other.

"Come on," she urged him. "Let's go before we turn into a Hallmark greeting card."

The evening was winding down as they finished off the last of the spiked eggnog. It was just about as perfect an evening as Blaine could want, and there were no tricks or lies involved. Just two people who liked each other's company.

"I'd like to see you again," Blaine told her, "but let's not wait until someone else gets strung up on Christmas lights."

"Deal," Peyton agreed. They shared a parting kiss and headed their separate ways.

It wasn't until much later that the thought finally hit him: _what the hell am I doing?_ She was the assistant district attorney. There were so many reasons why this was a terrible idea. But thinking of her laugh and the way it felt to kiss her made it very hard for him to care.


	2. Two

_Two_

It was after she was getting ready for bed that the thought came: _What the hell am I doing?_ He was a key witness in her case. And if that weren't enough, Stacey Boss already made threats. There were so many reasons for her to stop this, but there was also the smile that refused to leave her face and the way her heart skipped thinking of that kiss. And why shouldn't it? He was attractive, funny, charming, witty and with just the right amount of quirky. She couldn't manage to make herself regret the night.

The next morning Peyton was blending up her smoothie as usual, dancing to Billy Idol. She wasn't an overly huge fan of him but found herself in the mood for it today. She had coffee brewing for when the men decided to drag their butts out of bed. They were both later than usual coming to the kitchen. Major was no surprise there since between the good nights with Liv and the bad ones, he wasn't a reliable riser anymore; Ravi usually was, so him being late was a little stranger.

"Okay." She turned off Billy, fixing both men with her best _no bullshit_ stare. "What's going on with you two?"

"It's, ah… It's Liv," Ravi told her. "She's had a rough night."

"You mean other than almost getting shot?"

"We broke up. Again," Major said.

"And Clive isn't going to use her to help in murder investigations anymore," Ravi added.

"Oh, my god." Frankly, Liv and Major breaking up again wasn't that big of a surprise. Even at the best of times, there were always two people in Liv's head. But losing her place with helping investigations, too? Her zombie visions closed some of Peyton's cases. How could they just take that away?

Peyton powered down her smoothie and got dressed. Here she was daydreaming about a guy when her best friend really needed her. A part of her felt sad pushing thoughts of him to the side, but it wasn't like anything really happened yet.

She tried their old apartment first and when there was no answer, managed to track Liv down to the morgue. Liv was studying medical records but took her eyes off them when she heard Peyton approach. The look on her face was jarringly familiar: hopeless, defeated, and… well, there was no other word for it other than _lifeless_. Peyton saw that look so many times in the first few months after the boat party.

"Hey." Liv's greeting sounded like those days, too, and Peyton's heart broke for her. She took the quick strides toward her friend and gathered her up. "I guess you heard."

"Yeah, I did." Peyton pushed away to give her friend a stern look. "Though I would've preferred hearing it from you. Why didn't you call me?"

"I don't know." Liv turned back to the records. Peyton could sense that wall coming back up and mentally scrambled for a way to keep it from shutting Liv off again. "I guess I just wanted to get off these brains before anything else happened."

"Probably a good idea." The last few brains were pretty extreme: the stalker who got Liv in prison and now this vigilante who almost got Liv shot, and on Stacey Boss's radar. Although… "Hey, you know that guy who was found strung up on the Christmas tree? Maybe you could try him."

"Clive doesn't want me helping with murder investigations anymore," Liv argued. "And after what happened, I don't blame him. He's put his job on the line so many times because of me."

"Well… Maybe _I_ could put my job on the line for a while." The idea was crazy, but no crazier than a cop believing his medical examiner was psychic. "We use medical examiners as expert witnesses all the time, and you helped me out on cases before. I know it probably won't be as exciting as helping the police, but-"

"Seriously?" Liv's eyes were taking on a small spark of hope. "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course. Though I have to admit it's partly selfish: it'll be great for my career." The two shared a small smile. "But really," Peyton continued more seriously, "I just don't want to lose you again. Even if 'you' comes with a side of whatever she is." She nodded to the medical chart in Liv's hand. "I've got you, girl. And Ravi's working on a cure, so you'll be okay."

Liv blinked back the tears forming in her eyes. "Thanks, Peyton."

Peyton gave her another hug before heading to her office. She felt bad about not telling Liv everything, but her friend clearly had enough to deal with at the moment. No need to worry her more. Peyton just hoped that dead guy would be enough to finally corner Stacey Boss. If not, that was just one more person she cared about in danger.

Okay, so she cared about John Deaux. Enough that not long after meeting him, she wanted to talk about him with Liv; enough that rejecting Ravi wasn't just about not wanting to be a rebound. She usually didn't take such an interest in a guy so quickly, and she certainly wasn't one to call first. Yet her mind couldn't help but drift back to him, the giddy smile starting to return. It wasn't like her to be so caught up because of a guy.

She kind of liked it.


	3. Three

_Three_

The numbers were starting to blur together. Blaine set the papers down to take a break. Some days he missed Meat Cute: the delivery system, the changing menus, his workers, it was all such a well-oiled machine. If only Dudley Do-Right hadn't gone Rambo… but no use crying over spilled zombie brains. Anyway, it was much easier to get brains now, and the money coming in from all sides made everybody happy.

He just couldn't focus on the day's earnings any more. He locked the money away and got up to stretch his legs. Downstairs they were busy packing up utopium and sawing off skulls. The machine was oiled enough to not need him popping down all the time, but he did it anyway to remind them who was in charge. Seeing them hard at work, Blaine made a mental note to throw a great company Christmas party.

Eventually the work ended and they were all gone, either home for the night or out to deal. There was a long list of things for Blaine to take care of but he felt like a break. He plugged in his earbuds and put on some music, then tried some videos. None of it helped in relaxing him enough for sleep. He never could sleep very well, either as a human or a zombie: too many thoughts going around in his head.

The number was found and called before he could decide whether it really was a good idea or not. To his great surprised, she answered on the second ring.

"You know, just because you work in a funeral home doesn't mean you have to take the graveyard shift."

"But how else am I going to fill my creepy quota?" he retorted, delighting when he got a laugh from her. "So we know why I'm awake at this hour. What's your excuse?"

"Just going over the witness statements on that Christmas tree guy again. Hoping we can pin it on Boss. I have a good feeling about this one witness I found."

"I have full confidence in you. After all, you made _me_ talk, didn't you?" They shared the laugh this time. "By the way, you'll never guess what I'm watching right now." He turned up the volume so she could hear. Just imagining the look on her face made Blaine's pulse jump.

" _Gremlins_?" And with that they fell into conversation, first laughing over the gremlins' love for _Snow White_ and then letting one topic lead into another. They shared traumatic holiday memories and confessed to bad hair days, reminisced over childhood lunch boxes and the aggravations of co-workers.

Blaine lost all track of time and forgot about the hour until he idly glanced at the clock. "It's two A. M.," he observed. He didn't think he ever sat up talking to someone before. But Peyton was so easy to talk to, which was how the next few words fell from his mouth: "Before I let you go, I was wondering if you wanted to do something with me later. Like, say you got hungry…"

"I don't know, that Chinese takeout is a tough act to follow. You sure you can handle it?"

"I'll manage." He was grinning, and very grateful he was alone. "How does seven o'clock this evening sound?"

"Sounds great. I'll see you then."

When he first decided to get involved with the D. A.'s indictment against Stacey Boss, he had an entirely different outcome in mind. He used people out of convenience, to benefit himself, to help move plans forward. That was what was supposed to happen with the D. A., not this beautiful woman who had him _still smiling_ long after he hung up.

Blaine got some sleep and focused himself back on business. He touched up his roots to be sure his natural hair color wasn't showing through, then smoothed his hair down so he could meet daytime clients. Going over tombstones and coffin sizes was very dull but he put as much thought and energy into it as with the other side of his business. Appearances could fool anyone if you did it well enough.

At six-thirty that evening he stood outside the restaurant where he was meeting Peyton. He wore a suit with a dark blue collar shirt to complement his eyes. She arrived wearing a dress that accented all her curves except her cleavage, which was being hidden under a jacket. Blaine moved without thinking: he leaned in, greeting her in a kiss.

"You look amazing," he breathed out.

"Oh, so that really isn't a roll of quarters in your pocket," she quipped, smirking up at him. "Here I thought you were going to take me to the arcade. Though probably a good thing, since I wouldn't want to see your man pride crushed when I kicked your ass in Mortal Kombat." _Oh, my god, I love this woman._ Blaine quickly forced the thought away.

"Well, now you're just setting yourself up," he teased her back. "Let's see if you really are as tough as you talk."

Blaine would apparently need to learn never to plan things if Peyton was involved. They managed to find an arcade with the Mortal Kombat game and, between slices of pizza, played against each other in their fancy clothes. It was like he was a teenager again, which in itself was weird since he didn't even act like this as a teenager. Stranger still, he didn't mind having no plans. Things were surprising and unexpected; he liked it.

They came back to his place for drinks. He needed somewhere to crash after the mess with Jackie and this place was modest enough to not raise any eyebrows. Peyton wandered around while he poured them glasses of wine.

"Your place is great," she commented, accepting the wine. "Makes me think I should get something for myself. I have two roommates and while they're both great, I do miss my own space."

"Makes it harder to bring someone home with you, too, I imagine," he added. She made a face in agreement. "How about some music?" He went over to the stereo, tuning into his latest play list. Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation" started blasting through the speakers. Peyton was stunned for a few seconds before a grin lit up her face.

"I was _not_ expecting that." She actually started banging her head along to the music and then the two of them were dancing, nearly shouting the lyrics. When the last chord ended they fell into each other, laughing and breathless.

Another song was playing but Blaine didn't pay attention. He was too focused on Peyton, her lips moving toward his and her hands on his chest. Fingers were finding their way to zippers and buttons and before he knew it they were going into the bedroom.

He wanted to be with her. Not because of some greater scheme or an ulterior motive, but just because he liked her.


	4. Four

_Four_

There was nothing better than waking up after great sex. Tangled up in sheets, pressed against another body… it made a girl very reluctant to get up. Peyton found the process even more difficult with a bedmate like John. She ran one hand along his chest while the other played with his hair. With a sigh he stirred, eyes opening and mouth pulling into a smile.

"Well, good morning." He leaned in for a kiss and she found her body tingling all over again. Though no one would blame her after two rounds, both of which John actually made sure she was enjoying as much as he. Peyton indulged in a few more kisses before pulling away.

"You weren't kidding about your bed hair," she remarked as her fingers continued weaving through the bleached strands. "You must use a lot of gel to make it stay in one direction."

"Quiet or you'll disturb the birds nesting in yours," he retorted. She gave him a good whack with a pillow which resulted in a play-fight. Peyton never thought she'd be laughing and turned on all at the same time, yet John managed to bring it out in her. As much as she hated to do it, she let her responsible side take over.

"Okay, okay. Truce. We both have to get ready for work."

He was a gentleman about letting her take a shower first. While there, Peyton tried to mentally beat down her giddiness. She was _not_ going to turn into a starry-eyed lovestruck sap. She came out feeling refreshed and started fishing around for her clothes. John got in the shower next and Peyton tried not to listen too closely for possible shower singing. She still remembered hearing him sing and it was so surprising: simple and clear. John emerged clad only in a towel, his hair just as unruly wet as it was dry. Peyton personally liked the imperfection.

As it happened, both their routines got them to the door at the same time. John gave her a chaste kiss on the mouth as a goodbye.

"It's your turn next for dinner ideas."

"Excuse me?" Not what she expected.

"You did Chinese takeout, I did pizza, so now it's your turn again," he explained. Peyton stared, not knowing whether to be impressed by his confidence or annoyed by his presumption.

"You sound so sure I'll have the evening free."

"Lunch works, too," he shrugged. "I would've suggested coffee but, as you said, we both need to get to work."

"Right." She would swear he was purposefully challenging her. Deciding to leave him with some discomfort, Peyton pulled him in for a heated last kiss. She ended it with a "See you later" and was out the door.

Years ago she started keeping a change of clothes in her office for occasions like this and took advantage of her foresight before anyone noticed she'd worn the same thing two days in a row. Then it was complete focus on her work. With John as their only witness, the case against Stacey Boss was slow to build. Peyton hoped that what Liv gleaned from the dead employee would fill in any blanks.

It was still hard to believe her best friend was an undead creature surviving on brains, but at the same time it did explain a lot of weird behavior. Peyton couldn't even resent her friend for keeping it a secret. How do you even drop a bomb like that and expect people to understand? Besides, Peyton was keeping her own secrets lately to keep people safe.

All day she fought the instinct to check her phone or call John. She was never one to linger by the phone waiting for a guy to call her back, and she sure as hell wasn't going to start that now. She wasn't going to agonize over it and she wasn't going to be the one to call first. A text, on the other hand, especially if it was updating him on the case… That was perfectly fine.

Even if she had to rewrite the text several times before it came out reading professional.

Right before her lunch break she got a text back from him. First was a picture of him lying in an open coffin, followed by three words: "Dying of boredom". Peyton had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Really, it wouldn't be the end of the world if they had lunch together. So she texted him back telling him she'd bring sandwiches over.

When she arrived, it took him a minute to emerge. The kiss she got was well worth the wait. "Sandwiches. We're almost up to a full meal. I'd say that's progress."

"I'd say that's your turn," she replied. "How do you even eat in this place?"

"You'd be surprised what people will do when they're hungry enough."

They dug into the sandwiches, exchanging small talk between bites. Peyton found herself reluctant to go back to her office. Being with John was so much more relaxing. But just when she was thinking of an excuse to linger, her phone buzzed with a new text message. It was Liv alerting her to a zombie vision.

"I've got to go. It looks like I got an interview with that promising witness I mentioned."

"You get going," John encouraged her. "I should get back to work, anyway." He kissed her one last time. "I'll call you later."

"Okay," she agreed, feeling the giddiness start to bubble back inside her again. "Good luck topping the sandwiches."

So she was going to turn into one of those women waiting for a man's call, after all. She needed something to look forward to with everything else going on. And there was something about the way he held onto her that made her think she wasn't the only one feeling this way.


	5. Five

_Five_

Waking up next to Peyton was starting to be problematic. Not because he liked it any less; on the contrary, he liked it. And that was the problem. They were far beyond the point of Blaine dismissing this as casual flirting or a fling. Kissing her came so naturally, climbing into bed together a comfort, phone calls or texts throughout the day always making him smile. He even liked her absurd layers of socks.

It was easier with Jackie. Less attached. There was no hesitation when he heard about his dead delivery boy. As he kissed Peyton good morning, Blaine knew he'd feel the loss if she were gone.

His phone rang and he readied to speak in code. "Hello."

"Blaine, it's Olivia Moore. Ravi and I need to come see you. It's important."

"Great. You know my office hours, so make an appointment and we'll talk." He hung up before she had a chance to respond. With any luck, she was going to give him the good news of tainted utopium and the continuation of finding a cure. Blaine's desire to remain human had an additional motivation these days.

He turned to Peyton, flashing her an apologetic smile. "That was the florist I do business with. They want me to go over their latest catalog."

"Hmm, hours of looking over flower arrangements." Peyton draped her arms around his neck, kissing him softly. "Maybe one of those will be cheerful enough to give to a living person."

"One can only hope." His eyes sparked playfully at her. It was with great reluctance that he pulled away from her and got ready for the day. They ended the morning as they had the past few times Peyton stayed over: with the two of them at the door, sharing one last kiss before heading off to work.

Blaine shot out a few morning texts to his workers, alerting them to Liv Moore's impending arrival. If they worked fast, even her judging eyes wouldn't be able to detect a utopium trade going on under the funeral home's roof.

The funeral home side of his business wasn't too bad most days. Just like any other business, he got customers who were ready with every detail already in their minds, while others were hopelessly floundering and in need of his careful direction. He went by a simple rule: know your product and know your customers. Once he had that down, the rest was easy.

Liv and her sidekick arrived. Their faces did not promise good news and the medical bag in-hand wasn't much more promising.

"I'm sorry, but we don't have need for medical examiners here," he drolled out. "We have documents showing how these people died." Neither of them found his comment amusing. _Peyton would've laughed,_ he thought grudgingly. "All business today, I see. So what can I do for you two?"

"You know that cure I injected you with?" Liv began. "Well, the rat Ravi gave it to reverted to its zombie form. Meaning that so could you."

Blaine stared at her. His first few moments of being a zombie were a bit of a blur, as he was very high on utopium when his body made the transformation. He remembered raging out and grabbing Liv, remembered the screaming and the fire, his first taste of a human brain… Then came the loss of taste buds, always having another person in his head, being cut off from the pleasures of living. Going back to that was always a possibility and now he was being told the clock was ticking.

"We need to take a sample of your blood," Ravi told him.

"You _are_ still working on the cure, though," Blaine said as he rolled up his sleeve. "Have you found the tainted utopium stash yet?"

"It's a large area to look through and people aren't exactly environmentally friendly with their metal trash," Liv replied dryly. "It'd be faster if we had more help."

"Sorry, but all my zombie help was blown up." He glanced between them, his lip curling. "Of course, if you don't get going on that cure, I'll just revert back and make some more. That should speed up your search."

"We'll work as quickly as we can," Liv assured him. Ravi had his blood sample and was cleaning the entrance point. Blaine turned to him, trying to look unconcerned.

"So how long do I have, doc?"

"We won't know for sure until we run some tests. It could be next year or it could be tomorrow." Blaine had to keep from rolling his eyes. For doctors, these two had terrible bedside manner. It was no wonder they were stuck in the morgue.

"I try to get out but they pull me back in," he quipped.

They left with Ravi hopefully about to play mad scientist on some more rats. Blaine let out a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. This news couldn't have come at a worse time. Liv might have cured him for her own heroic reasons, but Blaine loved being alive again. True being a zombie made growing his business easier, but it didn't really make up for everything else.

Blaine liked to plan for every possibility. He could hope that the reversion would take months or, better yet, not happen at all. But he also had to prepare for waking up the next morning with a craving for brains. At least if he was going down, the man who hated zombies so much would be going down, too. He felt pretty good about that.

His phone buzzed with a text and when he glanced at the screen, he saw it was Peyton. If he reverted, he couldn't have sex with her without turning her into a zombie. Getting this news when they first met would've resulted in a thought process of: _So she'll turn into a zombie. Oh, well. I need one in the D. A.'s office anyway._ He wasn't having those thoughts now. Blaine found himself unsure of what he would do.

Things were definitely getting to be problematic.


	6. Six

_Six_

It was nearly impossible to find an available place that was within her price range, which was why Peyton agreed to live with the guys in the first place. But on the other hand, she didn't want to keep staying over at John's every night, and she certainly didn't want to bring him to Major's and have the poor guy subjected to a double-team interrogation. No, it was better if she just got her own place.

On the plus side, John didn't seem to _mind_ her staying over at his place every night. Sometimes she wondered if he faced every situation with that cool-as-a-cucumber attitude.

Peyton left the apartment hunt temporarily to focus back on building the case against Stacey Boss. Liv's visions from the Christmas tree guy were useful, but to actually use the information in court was a different matter. Some of it was good enough on its own but other parts would need another witness. So far John was the only one with the balls to actually speak out against Boss, and sadly his information was out-of-date.

"I'll do what I can," Peyton promised Liv, "but I'm worried it could be dismissed as hearsay without a collaborating witness or some hard evidence."

"Sorry I wasn't more help." Liv wrapped her pale hands around her cup, staring at the steaming coffee. Helping Peyton's case had done her some good but she was still down; Peyton suspected Liv missed Clive's friendship as much as being his partner. Unfortunately Boss's case wasn't homicide, so he couldn't be recruited on this.

"You did a lot. This case has taken a big step forward thanks to you."

That got Liv to smile and she sipped at her coffee. Despite the morose mood, Peyton was at least glad she understood the cause. Which made her feel guilty that she was keeping Liv in the dark just how serious this Boss case was getting. But after Liv was nearly shot, Peyton honestly wasn't eager to share the information.

"How are things with you and Major?" she ventured. She wasn't sure if this subject change would improve Liv's mood or make it worse.

"Actually, something came up, and you should know since you live with him." Intrigued, Peyton raised an eyebrow and waited. "You remember when Major briefly checked into a mental institution? Well, he went _really_ off and ended up being shot. He would've died…" Liv said no more but her expression was enough for Peyton to figure out what happened next.

"You scratched him?" Liv nodded, fixing her attention back on her cup. "But he's not a zombie."

"Yeah. Ravi's been working on a cure, and I gave it to Major."

Peyton's mind spun with this information and what it meant. How could no one have told her? Truthfully, she probably would've hesitated moving in with the guys if she knew… Yet he was cured, which means there was a chance _Liv_ could be cured. She wouldn't need to eat brains any more, wouldn't have a second person all the time. She could reconnect with her family and get her life back.

"Liv, that's amazing! Why didn't you tell me about this cure before?"

"Well, like I said, Ravi's still working on it. I didn't want anyone to get their hopes up." Understandable, and so very Liv of her. "And our patient zero reverted back to its zombie form recently," Liv added.

"Wait. So Major could turn _into_ a zombie?"

"Maybe. Ravi and I are running tests now. He could be fine, or he could revert back tomorrow. I'll help him if he does, but I thought you should know since…" She trailed off again, eyes dropping down. Yeah, after seeing Liv go full zombie made Peyton leave town, she could understand the warning.

Here Peyton was trying to find an apartment just so she and her boyfriend could have some privacy, and Liv was giving her a good excuse to move out. The question was: did she want that excuse? She was trying so hard to be okay with Liv's current condition, to support her as much as possible and give her condition some purpose. If Peyton moved out of Major's now, it would look like she was running from the zombie issue again.

But then there was John. Was it so wrong to want alone time with him, no zombie issues involved? Peyton felt like she was getting a headache mentally wrestling with the problem.

"I'll have to think about this." She stood up to leave, giving her friend a gentle squeeze of the shoulder. "I know all this has been hard on you. Don't give up, all right? The cure, Clive, Major… You'll find a way through it."

"Thanks." Liv's smile was back. "Sometimes I wish I told you about being a zombie earlier. I'm glad you know now, though. I don't think I could've gotten through this without you."

"I told you before," Peyton answered, "you're my freakin' heart." She kissed Liv on the cheek and departed, both women weighed down with their thoughts and worries.

Peyton's head was still going over everything she learned when she got back to her office. She instinctively reached for her phone, but what on earth could she text to John? _Hey, my roommate might be turning into a brain-eating zombie any day now._ No, she definitely wasn't going to drag him into the zombie mess. At least with Boss, he stepped into it of his own free will.

But she couldn't shake the desire to talk to him. Or better yet, see him. When she was with him, some of his cool attitude rubbed off on her and she felt more relaxed. She scrolled through pictures he sent her over the past few days, laughing at some and regarding others with fond smiles. No other guy she dated ever evoked these feelings in her.

Somehow she, Peyton Charles, the woman who broke a thousand hearts, had fallen in love with this man.

As if she didn't have enough problems to deal with.


	7. Seven

_Seven_

Blaine felt like a ticking time bomb, and he hated it. He hated that the big Z could overtake him at any moment. He hated waiting for a solution to be made by someone else; he was used to getting things done for himself. But that wasn't even his only annoyance. His clients were still being picked off. Not at an alarming rate, but enough that it was hurting his profits. And one of those they lost was Natalie, which had a lot of _her_ customers complaining to _him_.

At least they weren't whining about their brains. Business had hurt a bit after he lost his chef, but hungry zombies soon learned to shut up and eat what they were given.

He channeled his energy into throwing a raucous Christmas party for his employees. Just because they were undead didn't mean they couldn't live it up. Drinks flowed freely and he cranked up the music. He passed out their paychecks and a little extra for a Christmas bonus. Sure Blaine liked to keep everyone in line and instill a sense of fear if they stepped out of it, but he wanted to show they would actually be valued and rewarded for their good work.

When the party was over, Blaine insisted everyone go home and get a good sleep in preparation for the holiday rush. Nothing made people turn to drugs more than Christmas. Blaine stayed behind to clean up the mess and get things organized. As he worked, his mind inexplicably turned toward Peyton. His hand automatically went for his phone to check for messages. But of course she was busy with her own company party.

He was looking forward to being alone with her and couldn't wait to see her face when she unwrapped the gift he bought her. It took a lot of planning, not only to find the right gift but make sure that it was possible for "John Deaux" to afford it while not appearing too cheap. Peyton struck him as a woman who could tell that kind of thing.

But he thought of her smile, her ridiculous socks and that endearing southern twang she got when she drank whiskey. Totally worth it.

Blaine put thoughts of her on hold and focused back on business. It was one of his many gifts, compartmentalizing. Many of his employees knew about his dealings with the D. A., but none of them could guess the attorney in question was his girlfriend.

Girlfriend. That was a dangerous word. _Focus_. A fresh utopium shipment, unknowingly courteous of Stacey Boss, was due soon. He needed to plan out the routes for his dealers and check in on Drake's progress. There were brains to be cut out and packaged. So much to do, so many people to take money from, yet so little time to do it all. If he didn't know the truth about Max Rager he'd be tempted.

Several hours later, Don E found him asleep in the back room. It wasn't the first time Blaine slept at work and luckily Don E was one of the few who wouldn't say anything about it. The other, of course, didn't say anything at all.

"Blaine, there's someone up front wanting to talk to you about… I don't know, their dead grandmother or something."

"Fine." Inwardly he was a bit annoyed that he had to wake up with _that_ face peering at him instead of a certain brunette's, but on the outside he appeared calm. He rolled to his feet and started looking around for his suit. "Give me ten minutes."

"Uh." This request made Don E nervous. Blaine liked that, liked how his employees instinctively shrank away from being given responsibility, even temporarily. _Blaine will take care of this. Blaine is in charge._ He could practically see those thoughts speeding through Don E's shifting eyes.

"Just stall them," Blaine advised him in a gentle, patient tone. He put his hand on Don E's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You can do that for me, can't you?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I can do that. No problem." Blaine gave him another reassuring pat before sending him off.

Honestly, Blaine could get ready in eight minutes, but he liked making people sweat a bit. When he emerged, his hair was slicked back and he gave off the demeanor of comforting authority. Here was a guy who had it all together but wasn't going to judge the bereaved, who understood their pain and would walk them through every step of putting their loved one to rest. He could be trusted to meet their every outlandish request.

And so the day went. His other operations ran so smoothly that this was the only part that needed actual work. And what consuming work it could be at times. Dealing with the customers was easy. Working with casket-makers, grave diggers and florists was the teeth-grinding part. Blaine wished he could take care of it himself and not have to haggle with so many middle-men but even he had limits. For now. Once he had a more firm hold on Seattle, he could take over all those businesses. He'd love to see them talk their way out of reasonable prices for their merchandise when he _owned_ them.

With the funeral home closed for the night, Blaine shed off his persona of John Deaux, funeral home director, and stepped back into his own comfortable shoes. He got Peyton's gift and threw on a coat.

"I have some business in town," he told no one in particular. "Text me if there are any issues." With that he was out in the cool evening air, taking in the first breath of fresh air all day. The downside to building an empire was all the hours he spent inside overseeing its construction.

Peyton was bundled up when they met at a café but was still so gorgeous it made Blaine melt a little. They ordered their drinks and sat down, shedding off their coats. Underneath hers, Peyton wore one of those outfits that on anyone else would've looked casual. On her, it was as sexy as any cocktail dress. The look she gave him suggested his own choice in clothes was having a similar effect.

They eased into their usual banter, swapping work stories and detailing the Christmas parties they endured. Blaine carefully steered the conversation in just the right direction to present his gift.

"And this one White Elephant exchange, I got stuck with this ridiculously huge foam hat."

"Oh, please tell me there are pictures," he said, laughing.

"None that _you're_ ever going to see." Her eyes twinkled at him and he knew this was the perfect time.

"Speaking of gifts, I have something for you. Don't think of it as a Christmas present. Just something that I saw and made me think of you." With that introduction, he pulled out the gift.

It was a poster, but wrapped around it was a bracelet. It took forever finding one that had a design matching the swirl on the _Vertigo_ poster, but Peyton's look when she recognized it paid off all his efforts. She carefully slid it off but had little time to admire, as the poster unfurled and Jimmy Stewart's face greeted her.

"A poster for _Vertigo_."

"You don't already have one, do you?" For answer, Peyton went over and kissed him. Thoughtless of the people around him, Blaine wrapped his arms around her to return the kiss. They managed to part but by all rights, the heat still between them should've set off the fire alarms.

"I, ah, got you something, too," Peyton confessed. She fished in her purse and produced a box. Inside Blaine found a keychain in the shape of a guitar pick. It was silver and one side of the metal was engraved with Kurt Cobain's signature. Blaine knew that these were easy to come by, but Peyton was feeding into his love for Kurt Cobain just as he did with her love for Jimmy Stewart.

Honestly, he couldn't remember the last time anyone gave him such a thoughtful gift. Tangling the chain between his fingers, Blaine combed through Peyton's hair and kissed her again. The embrace didn't last as long this time but the desire and passion definitely kicked up a notch between them.

Blaine helped fasten the bracelet on Peyton's wrist, finding an excuse to caress her arm. She leaned close and he thought he was in for another kiss, but instead she said in a hushed voice, "Let's get out of here."

Much later they were tangled together, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair and his running along her arms to catch on her new bracelet. He met her eyes and smiled. It was then he said very true, very terrifying words.

"I love you."


	8. Eight

_Eight_

Everyone at the office felt the need to comment on her flowers. From the secretary to a passing judge, they all complimented the arrangement or tried getting her to say who they were from. Peyton managed the whole thing pretty calmly, with her usual attitude toward gestures like this. _Oh, yeah, I get flowers sent to me all the time._ Except this time was different: she was in love with this man and he with her, as they confessed to each other.

She just wished she was the first to see them. They were already on her desk when she arrived at work, the staff barely able to contain themselves while they waited for her to open the door. Of course the flowers were gorgeous and arranged in that painstakingly artistic way that screamed professionalism. There was a card attached that read: "Hope this is cheerful enough for a living person", which had her laughing and got her pulse jumping all at the same time. She took a selfie of herself and the flowers and sent it to him.

"I'm not quite dead," she texted him. "I think I might pull through." His response took about two seconds.

" _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_? I think I love you even more now." She grinned and assured him she loved him too, but she really needed to get back to work. He responded with a picture of himself making a face at the camera. Peyton laughed and reluctantly turned off her phone.

This was getting to be ridiculous. It wasn't like this was the first serious relationship she was in, or even the first that she could tag the L word onto. But when Peyton flipped through her mental Rolodex of men, she couldn't come up with a single one that made her feel the way John did. She turned her wrist to get a good look at her new bracelet. John really _got_ her.

That was when she made the decision. It was selfish and a part of her felt guilty about it, but she was so tangled up in the zombie drama that she needed this for herself.

She dropped by the funeral home full of anticipation. She could hear the piano and she smiled, remembering the first time she came by. Even back then she and John clicked, and that spark of connection was honestly a big part of why she made that first call. She followed the noise and found him. Not singing this time, but seeing this display was sexy enough. Another thing she couldn't help thinking of that first visit.

"Don't you ever work?" she asked him playfully. John turned, an instant warmth coming into his eyes on seeing her. When she saw that look it made her wonder how on earth he got into the funeral home business. He was so full of energy and confidence, so warm and light that it didn't really fit in with the more somber role his job dictated.

Or maybe that was the whole point: doing something so opposite of his nature, something no one expected from him. Yeah, that sounded like something he would go for.

"Peyton?" His voice nudged her out of her thoughts and she blinked, realizing she missed part of the conversation.

"Sorry, I zoned out for a minute. I've had a lot on my mind lately." She sat next to him on the piano bench, slipping the object into his palm. "Including this." John frowned and opened his hand.

"This is a key."

"To my apartment." Her eyes slid up to meet his. She could see the heat in those startling blue eyes and wondered of he sensed how huge this step was for her. Sure, she had guys over at her place before, but _never_ gave them a key. "It doesn't seem fair that I'm always at your place," she added, "but you've never been to mine."

"I could come over tonight," he offered softly, "if you want." They were only inches away from kissing. Something they did many times and yet still made Peyton tremble. And then they were on each other, Peyton fitting his body between her legs and diving her fingers into his hair. She felt his hands on her back and a part of her wondered if she could get his control to slip a little…

A door opened from somewhere else inside the funeral home, calling out a muffled name. It was like throwing cold water on them. John broke away immediately and slid off the piano bench.

"You should get going," he advised her. "I'll call you later." He dismissed himself without a goodbye kiss but honestly, Peyton was still reeling from their earlier intensity to notice. Before that voice interrupted him she was prepared to have sex with him right there on the piano bench.

 _Get a grip,_ she scolded herself.

Being at work didn't exactly help her focus, either. The case on Stacey Boss rested so heavily on John's testimony that she couldn't help thinking of him or bringing him up. Most didn't know exactly where she was getting her information from, just that it was good and yielding results. Boss's empire was long-reaching but not invincible, and they were going to chip away at it until it finally crumbled. As much as she triumphed in these wins, Peyton was looking forward to it all being over. Not just for the satisfaction of Boss being behind bars, but because it meant John and Liv would be safe.

On the bright side, Boss hadn't made another appearance in the office since the initial threatening visit. Peyton liked to think he was too busy putting out all the fires she was starting. That should wipe the smug look off his face.

She didn't know what to expect when she told the guys she was moving out. And at first they didn't give a response at all except staring. Even Minor didn't move from his position on Ravi's lap.

"You know I love you both," she said, "but living here was always meant to be temporary, not a gender switch of _Three's Company_." That finally shook the guys out of their stupor.

"Our little girl is growing up," Major sighed. He cast a wistful glance to Ravi. "I don't know if I can handle the empty nest."

"I wouldn't worry about it," he replied. "She'll be back every weekend to do the laundry."

"You two shut up or you won't be invited to the party I'm throwing there on New Year's." All joking aside, she was relieved and happy they were taking this well.

When she first returned to Seattle, she agreed to live with the guys because while she wasn't ready to deal with all the memories of Liv, she didn't want to ignore her friend, either. Major and Ravi were a good bridge to build back between them. Now she felt everything was in the right place. Major was more stable, Ravi accepted they were just friends and she and Liv were tight again. Peyton didn't even mind that Liv was trying to get back into murder investigations with Clive.

Life was pretty good. Kicking off her heels in her new place, she couldn't imagine it getting much better. A knock at the door disrupted her thoughts and she moved to the door. Before she could see her visitor, the door opened on its own with John on the other side.

"The key works," he noted, eyes twinkling at her. Her eyes twinkled back as she leaned in to kiss him. Okay, _now_ she couldn't imagine it getting better than this.

"Come on in," she invited him. He obediently stepped across the threshold. Carefully he pushed back to close the door behind him and slid the lock into place.


	9. Nine

_Nine_

"How many times have I told you? During business hours, you call me Mister Deaux." Blaine nearly shook the man, as if that would help get the stupidity out of him. "If you're having trouble remembering, just think of Homer Simpson."

"D'oh?" Blaine was already moving on, his eyes catching another issue he was sure they already went over. He sighed, picking up the yellow bag by its shoulder strap. While he liked being in control of operations, he did wish his employees didn't need him to hand-hold them through everything.

"What's this doing here? You were supposed to get rid of them. I told you that the FBI has those on file."

"We ran out of the other delivery bags."

"Fine," Blaine sighed out through gritted teeth. He didn't like all these small cracks appearing in his painstakingly-constructed business. First the news that he could turn back into a zombie, then his employee nearly blowing his cover while Peyton was visiting, now this yellow bag. Thankfully Peyton hadn't heard, but the slips were unacceptable.

Maybe he was spending too much time with her and not enough on the work. Not noticing the yellow bag was just sloppy. Sloppy got you caught. And yet he couldn't imagine giving her up. He just needed to make sure she didn't pay any more surprise visits to him, that was all.

Don E interrupted his thoughts by announcing Drake was here. Drake… what a surprisingly helpful little mole he'd become. Another one of those things that Blaine didn't exactly plan out from the start but was turning into one of his better ideas. If he didn't think she'd turn her nose at it, Blaine would consider doing something nice for Liv in appreciation of her contributing to his business.

"Always a pleasure to see you, Drake," he smiled, gesturing to a chair. "Sit down, take a load off." Drake did not take the invitation. Blaine recognized the look in the man's eyes and knew what was coming.

"My brain supply's run out. I need more."

"Slow down there, sport. You know the drill here."

"No gain, no brain," Drake recited grudgingly. He sank down into the chair and gave Blaine what he wanted: more information on Boss's movements, his utopium stashes, and how he was reacting to the growing attention from police.

Drake was very careful about what he said to Blaine, who in turn was careful about what he said to Peyton. He might be in love with her but he still had his own interests to consider. What Drake told him would be passed along to the D. A. eventually after Blaine was done funneling out what he wanted.

He deemed Drake's information good enough for fresh brains. The deceased in question, according to family members and friends, was a boxer in their younger days. That little boost was bound to help Drake in his duties as bodyguard. Blaine made him brown bag it; a little boring on the design, but much less conspicuous and less likely to raise questions.

Dinner with Peyton wasn't the usual mental getaway. Blaine couldn't stop thinking of the close call they had the other day. If his guy had been a little closer, she would've heard his real name. And of course being caught making out with the A. D. A. would raise questions. Not a mess he wanted to clean up. He needed to be more careful.

"Hey, how would you like to come by here for a party I'm throwing? It's going to be kind of a mesh of housewarming and New Year's Eve. You could meet all my friends."

Blaine set down his fork and put on a thoughtful expression. Inwardly his mind was racing. He was getting in much deeper than he ever anticipated, and a lot of it was on him. He gave her his phone number, he kissed her, he dropped the L word… They weren't exactly living together but her apartment key was on his new Kurt Cobain keychain, and she had stayed over at his place every night for weeks. Meeting her friends was an inevitable step, yet he was _just_ thinking he needed to be more careful.

"You don't look thrilled with the idea," Peyton noted. "Am I turning into one of those girls who move too fast?"

"No," he assured her. Blaine hesitated before choosing his next words. "It's just that I can't exactly reciprocate. All of my 'friends' are from my drug-dealing days, and I've cut out all ties from them years ago. I can't really call my employees friends, either." He let out a hollow laugh. "I really don't have anyone I could introduce you to."

Playing the sympathy card worked. Peyton moved from her chair to his lap, curling her fingers gently in his hair. Her closeness thrilled him and he turned his head to brush kisses on her ear and jaw.

"I was hoping for something more private," he whispered into her skin. "Just the two of us." When he got to her lips she was breathing heavily and trembling. Their mouths melded together and Blaine felt that if one of his employees dared interrupt _this_ time, he would end up shooting them.

He thought he drove the idea out of Peyton's mind, but as they were laying in bed together later, she brought it up again: "I definitely don't want to move you too fast, John. I just want to show you off to my friends. You're someone I've never had in my life before."

"I have heard good-looking, bleach-haired funeral directors are hard to come by," he remarked with a smirk. She responded with a look and a gentle punch on the arm.

"A man I loved," she corrected. Blaine's resolve softened against his will. He should have backed out a long time ago, before he knew how her lips tasted and how her body responded and all her little quirks and mannerisms. He cupped her face and pulled her in for a kiss. 

"I've never had someone like you in my life before, either," he confessed. Every instinct was telling him to stop this before it got any worse. Instead he heard himself say, "Okay. I'll be there."


	10. Ten

_Ten_

Everyone helped move Peyton into her new place. Liv and Major were in charge of the heavy lifting while Ravi assisted in unpacking boxes. It almost felt like things were back to the way they should be, but then Peyton would look at Liv's pale skin and the illusion would shatter. _Soon_. Liv, Ravi and Major were all working on the cure now; between the three of them, she was sure they would come up with a permanent solution. Hopefully before Major joined the ranks of the brain-eating undead.

Peyton didn't mention to either Major or Ravi she knew about Major's temporary condition; she didn't want them to think it had anything to do with her decision of moving out. Sure it played _some_ role, but John was a much bigger factor.

When did she get to the point where loving John was enough to make her less uneasy about zombies?

Liv lingered after the guys went home. Peyton popped open a bottle of wine and the two sat around chatting. Liv detailed her efforts to get back into Clive's good graces. He still wasn't letting her participate in investigations, but he was at least following the leads provided by Liv's visions.

"Is that going to happen to Major, too?" Peyton wondered. "If he turns into a zombie, I mean. Is he going to get these visions and have weird personality swings?"

"I don't know that many zombies to use as a point of reference," Liv mused, "and I don't know if being cured for a while will make any difference, but probably. He might not purposefully find ways to trigger them like I do, but a lot of the time you can't control when they pop up or how the brains make you feel." Peyton couldn't even imagine what that would be like, having flashes of another person's life. Experiencing the good, the bad and the painful. Liv told her that the visions felt real to her. And adding the out-of-of control personality shifts? It was actually a really horrible way to survive.

"What about the hair and the pale skin? When does that happen?"

"When I woke up as a zombie my hair was already changing colors," Liv remembered, "and I was definitely pale. It took a while for my hair to go completely white. He would need to get frequent spray-tans and constantly dye his hair if he wanted a 'natural' look."

Peyton felt a tingle of unease. She now knew the boat party was the first incident of the zombie outbreak. Liv told her how her formal rival Marcy had become a zombie as a result. Liv and Ravi didn't discuss it but it no doubt weighed on them that there could be zombies walking around Seattle, disguising themselves. A chill ran through her as John's face popped up in her mind. His bleached hair seemed so natural… maybe _too_ natural.

 _No. There's no way._ She'd been sleeping with him for weeks. If he was a zombie, surely he would've infected her by now. Wasn't that how it worked, and why Liv and Major couldn't sleep together? Yet now that the idea was in her head, Peyton couldn't shake it.

"Peyton, you okay?"

"It's just a lot to take in. Lowell was one of those zombies who passed as human, wasn't he?" She knew Lowell was a touchy subject, but she had to know. "He recognized you as one because of your hair and skin, but you weren't sure about him. And even _with_ the hair and skin, none of us would've guessed 'zombie' with you. So how can you tell?"

"The weird personality shifts. And the love of spicy food. Zombie taste buds are so dead we need lots of spice in order to feel anything." Things Peyton noticed about Liv while they lived together but again, would never have suspected would equal "zombie".

She compared this information with what she knew about John and came up with little. The only weird personality shift that came to mind was when they were on the piano bench. He got a little weird when she asked him to the New Year's party, too, but that was typical "guy not wanting to commit" behavior. As for spicy food, he ate it but didn't go to the extremes she saw Liv exhibit. The evidence was pretty flimsy; she certainly wouldn't go to any court with it. But it still gnawed at her.

Because another idea was starting to form: _What if John_ _is_ _a zombie, and I'm just immune?_ Ravi treated it like a virus so surely someone was bound to be immune to it eventually.

It explained some of John's behavior. She felt the hunger in that first kiss, like he hadn't kissed anyone in a very long time. Was there relief in his touches during their first time, or was she just retroactively imagining it? He was a funeral director, giving him easy access to brains. Maybe his unease in meeting her friends wasn't because of commitment but because he worried the environment would make him go full-on zombie mode. Then there was the bleached hair… It still felt pretty flimsy but that didn't stop her mind from running with it. If John _was_ a zombie and she _was_ immune, that would be huge.

"Hey, don't worry. If Major turns, Ravi and I will help him." Right, they were still talking about Major, not Peyton's possibly-a-zombie boyfriend. _Oh, my god, I've become a heroine in a supernatural romance novel_.

"And you cured him once," Peyton added. "You could do it again."

The two friends parted soon afterward, leaving Peyton alone with her thoughts. Her lawyer instincts knew she had to gather as much evidence as possible before presenting her case. Luckily, she was a damn good lawyer.


	11. Eleven

_Eleven_

Blaine never thought the day would come when he felt perfectly at ease in a lawyer's office, and for that feeling to have absolutely no correlation with the zombie district attorney down the hall. Though, he had to admit, it was nice having that little brain-eating mole around. It gave him another excuse to drop by. Of course Blaine made sure he had good information to pass along to Peyton, making it all seem purely business.

"I can't wait to slam Boss with this indictment," Peyton said, scribbling excitedly on her board. Blaine sensed that passion and drive in her from the moment they met. There was an air of desperation too, hoping _someone_ would step forward and speak out against Stacey Boss. All those other cowards missed out on something great. Too bad for them.

"Glad I could help," he assured her, smiling. "Just a humble citizen doing my part to make this city a better place."

"I don't know about the 'humble' part," Peyton teased him, "but you're definitely helping the city. The mayor might even give you one of those huge keys to the city." Blaine couldn't help laughing at the image of the mayor handing the key to the city over to _him_ , even if it was only symbolically. A knock at the door interrupted them. "I hope you don't mind," Peyton said as she moved to answer it, "but I went ahead and ordered food for us."

"It's your turn, anyway," Blaine conceded.

He couldn't help watching the delivery man as food and money made the exchange of hands. Since the incident with Jackie, he was a lot more careful with his delivery people, though he doubted they all went about things with as much enthusiasm as this guy. Or maybe they did; it was a smart way to make a tip.

His thoughts were quickly de-railed by the smell. "Is that Indian food?" Peyton answered by taking out the containers. Blaine shook his head ruefully. "Are you trying to get fired or just have your office burnt to the ground? Your co-workers are going to _hate_ you."

"They won't," she assured him. "My boss orders from this place all the time." Lip curling in amusement, Blaine reached for his portion and dug in. He didn't remember Indian food being this spicy, but then again, he was a zombie the last time he ate it. Almost as if she could read his mind, Peyton asked, "Is it spicy enough?"

"It's fine. It's nice to have food with a little kick to it." She seemed pleased by this and they fell into relative silence, interrupted only when Blaine offered another bit of information to Peyton's board. There was sort of an unspoken rule that they would stick to business-only conversations while working on the Boss case. Flirting was still perfectly fine, of course.

Before he left, Blaine helpfully suggested Peyton keep her doors and windows open for the next few weeks. She just rolled her eyes and shoved him out. Blaine intended to do some other work but decided that as long as he was here, he might as well drop in on the D. A. after all. Floyd knew he was here but still seemed surprised when Blaine breezed through the door. Surprise that quickly shifted to the mixture of panic and expectancy that all of Blaine's zombie moles got when they saw him.

"Why are you in here? You know it's my A. D. A. doing all the work against Boss."

"Yes, but I was thinking how nice it would be if the public had the impression _you_ were doing most of the work." Floyd didn't seem to follow, so Blaine explained it to him slowly. "Boss himself was in her office a few weeks ago. All he did was threaten but it might get worse next time, and let's face it: between the two of you, which one of you should be in that fight? The guy on Team Z, right?"

"You think it's going to come to a fight?"

"Well, wild animals getting cornered don't usually just let themselves be put in cages. Think of yourself as the tranquilizer gun." Blaine could tell Floyd did not like this idea, and added, "I'll give you more brains." That sealed the deal. It didn't matter who the person was before they were scratched; zombies were all the same when it came to their dependence on brains.

Blaine didn't want to turn into one of those overprotective boyfriends, especially since Peyton was more than capable of handling herself. Having his zombie D. A. as the focus was as much for his own reasons as for her protection: if Boss's people came calling, they would likely trigger a rage-out and meet a grisly end. It was a piece he would've used whether or not he had any personal interest in Peyton Charles.

Sadly, it looked like it would be one of those times when he couldn't spend the night with Peyton. They made up for it with talking all night over the phone. Peyton took particular pleasure in telling him how much she was enjoying her hot tub.

"By the way, I've been thinking of New Year's and you're right: we should do something just the two of us. I don't want to force you into that situation."

"I won't lie, I would prefer that." He was damn relieved, actually. This thing between the two of them sometimes felt like its own world, and bringing other people into it would be an invasion. It did seem a little strange that she would change her mind on it but he wasn't going to question on the chance she'd just change it back.

"Then it's a plan. I'll let you go now. Only one of us should look dead on their feet at work tomorrow." They exchanged their love before hanging up for the night.

Blaine felt an impulse to swing by Peyton's place that morning. He was confident his talk with the D. A. would throw Boss off her trail but he still felt better when he saw to matters personally. So far he hadn't seen any of Boss's guys hanging around her place and it looked like today was going to be the same. Except someone _else_ was walking toward her building and it was too late to pretend they didn't see each other.

"What are _you_ doing here?" He let out a long-suffering sigh.

"A guy can't even walk down the street without looking suspicious."

"Not when it's you." Liv usually toed the line between tolerance and suspicion with him, but today she jumped right into the latter. Blaine let his mind spin through all his dealings lately but couldn't find any that would make it on her radar. "Please tell me you don't have any zombies living in this building."

"Right. Because what I really want to do with a zombie killer on the loose is start giving out the names of my clients." He actually checked to make sure there were none when Peyton moved in. Liv pursed her lips and chose not to respond. Blaine stuck his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "A zombie killer who is still killing, by the way. Thoughts?"

"I kind of have a lot on my plate right now." Ah, there was the proper tolerance-suspicion ratio. "I have to worry about _human_ murders, too, and we're still working on the cure. The police are doing their best to hunt down the Chaos Killer. That's the best I can give you now."

"Thanks for the update," he drolled out. "It fills me with determination." He took his leave of her, putting a reasonable distance between them before looking back over his shoulder. She was still standing where he left her, staring at Peyton's building.

Great. How was he going to spend New Year's with her now?


	12. Twelve

_Twelve_

Other than slipping him brains or outright asking him, Peyton tapped almost every resource in finding out if John was a zombie. There was still Major's strange zombie detector ability, but asking him felt like opening up more cans of worms than she wanted to deal with. A part of her wished he would just come out and admit it himself, but since it took stabbing a man in the head for her best friend to admit her condition, Peyton honestly wasn't holding out much hope.

Speaking of Liv, it was nice going out like they used to buying champagne for the New Year's party. Peyton hated John not being there but decided that on the off-chance he _was_ a zombie, springing that on her friends at New Year's was not the best plan. Thinking of him reminded her to buy an extra bottle for their private celebration. She was known to hold her liquor but the amount still made Liv raise an eyebrow.

"Planning on playing some drinking games with the guys?"

"No, it's for something else I have planned." She hesitated but then knew that it was far past time to spring the news on Liv. "With my boyfriend."

" _What_?!" Liv froze in the middle of the aisle. "Since when did you have a boyfriend?"

"A while," Peyton answered evasively. "You know me, guys aren't usually a big deal." She took a breath before continuing. In all the years she and Liv were friends, this was the first she got to reveal a serious relationship. "Except this guy turns out to be a pretty big deal for me. He's smart, funny, charming, good-looking and I just like being around him and talking to him."

"Okay, this sounds like it's too big for aisle twelve to handle," Liv declared. "Let's finish shopping and you can tell me the rest at your place."

They did, and half an hour later they were sitting at Peyton's table with drinks in hand while she finally gushed about John. She still left a few details out- like him being a former drug dealer and her suspicion that he was a zombie- but she detailed the spiked eggnog, the first kiss, all the moments that made her fall for him. Liv listened without interrupting, though her eyes were wide and her mouth hanging slightly open.

"Wow," she said at last. "I have _got_ to meet this guy."

"You will, definitely. Maybe we'll wait until you're off murder victim brains first, though." And if he was a zombie, it was probably better for him to meet one of his own kind first. It would make him feel more at ease to admit his own condition, hopefully.

They talked for a while longer before deciding they should call it a night. Liv helped clean up and gave her friend a hug as she headed out. But just before she left, she paused and turned back.

"Oh, yeah. Your boyfriend news distracted me and I almost forgot: have you seen anybody weird hanging around your building? Like… zombie weird?"

"No," Peyton answered, though she was starting to get an anxious tingle in her stomach.

"I don't want to freak you out in case it's nothing, but I saw someone hanging around your building the other day. He's very, _very_ dangerous, and I want you to call me if you ever see him around." Peyton asked what this person looked like and Liv provided a description. One Peyton wasn't expecting.

She took in a deep, slow breath and pulled out her phone. She thumbed through pictures until she found one she wanted and held it out for Liv to examine. "Is this the guy?" Liv's expression alone gave her the answer. _Stay calm, stay calm._

"Peyton, why do you have a picture of Blaine on your phone?" Blaine. She still managed to keep composed even as that unfamiliar name stabbed its way through her heart. Liv, unaware of her friend's inner turmoil, kept the blows coming. "Have you seen him already? Peyton, you need to stay away from this guy. He's a murderer. He killed countless homeless kids and fed them to zombies as _food_ ; he's the reason Evan was in his accident; he shot Major; he's the one who turned me into a zombie!"

She finally couldn't take it anymore. She backed away until she hit a chair and then nearly fell down into it. Her head was spinning, echoing back Liv's words and trying to match them up with the guy she knew. No, Liv just proved Peyton didn't know this man at all. Everything about him had been a lie, right down to his first name. She was too stunned to feel the pain and hurt she knew was coming.

"Peyton?" Liv's worried voice roused her out of her stupor. "What is it?"

"It's _him_. He's…" She choked, though she wasn't sure if she was about to cry, scream or throw up. "I thought we were in love," she managed weakly. And then Liv was there with her arms around Peyton, and she just let herself lean against her friend for a while. Tears came: mournful, angry and hurt. When she was all cried out, she gently pulled away from Liv's arms.

"I think I need a shower. Maybe a hundred showers."

"You want me to stay?" Liv asked her, watching in concern.

"No. I'll call you if I need you, though." Peyton went straight to the shower once she was alone, turning the water on as hot as she could stand.

She felt so stupid, so used. No wonder he was so quick to help the case against Stacey Boss! A murderer who controlled Seattle's zombie population had nothing to fear. She had no doubt he was still doing it, too, using the brains from his funeral home. It made her skin crawl to think of those hands on her. The worst of it was they couldn't even put him in jail. He was cured with the same stuff as Major, and if he reverted he could scratch every convict he came across.

The hot water ran out but Peyton didn't feel any cleaner. She toweled off and went into her room to tear down the poster John, or _Blaine_ , gave her. She hated feeling helpless and there was no way in hell she was going to let him do it to her.


	13. Thirteen

_Thirteen_

His eyes kept glancing over to the clock, marking when Peyton would officially be off work. Work on his end never actually stopped, but Blaine was an expert at making reasons to be away. The reasons he gave were different but always believable and left no room for questions, or even clues as to where they could find him in case of emergency. Blaine made sure that cell phone was the only way any of his crew could reach him while he was with Peyton.

Tonight it was more important to him than ever he have time alone with Peyton: they were going to be doing their private New Year's date. He knew she really wanted him to meet her friends and had made this private date for his sake, so he was determined to make it extra special. He had sparklers and noise makers sent to her office anonymously as a start. There were a few other things he planned to do once he was free from his employees, so he made sure to tie up anything he felt couldn't be handled without him before leaving for the night.

"Hey, beautiful," he texted as he walked to meet her. "Hope you're ready to be beaten at drinking games."

"You really think it's wise to take me on?" she answered. "Bring it, Deaux." He laughed and pocketed his phone.

They met a block away from her office. She had the noise makers in one hand and the sparklers in the other. Blaine took the advantage and cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her. He thought he felt her stiffen a little under his touch, her lips not as responsive as usual. He dismissed it and took the sparklers so they could hold hands as they headed back to his place. Peyton hesitated a moment before sliding her fingers through his. Blaine wasn't one to demand public displays of affection, or even private displays all the time, but it was so easy with them so far that her hesitance had him wondering.

They arrived at his door but he didn't unlock the door. Instead he took out a single key from his pocket and held it out for her. "I want you to do the honors." Peyton eyed him questioningly but did as he asked. Blaine let her walk in first so she could take in his décor.

It was tricky to make everything look festive and romantic at the same time, but he managed. He even rigged a ball to the ceiling like the one scheduled to drop in Times Square. Soft piano music was playing over his speakers, his lights turned low and fake candles glowing in strategic places throughout the apartment. Blaine got up behind her and put her arms around her. This time he definitely felt her twitch before relaxing.

"Did I startle you?" he asked, kissing her neck.

"I guess I'm a little jumpy," she admitted. She wasn't leaning into him like usual, though, and after a while pulled away. She held out the key. "Here."

"That's yours," Blaine informed her. It felt right to offer her a key to his place, and not just because she did the same for him. Her expression softened as she dropped the key into her purse. "There's more. Listen." The music was starting to swell into something thrilling and triumphant. Just listening it made Blaine want to sweep Peyton in his arms and kiss her.

"I'm not as big a classical nerd as you are," Peyton admitted. "Who is this?"

"Oh. This is me." That stunned her, as he hoped it would. "It's something I've been working on. Music has always been my way of expressing myself when words and actions fail me. What do you think?"

Peyton was listening much more intensely now. After the swell, the tempo quickened to make the notes sound more energetic. As she listened, Peyton's expression turned from polite curiosity to surprise until it settled on awe.

" _You_ wrote this? It's gorgeous." She was looking at him like she never really saw him properly before. "Even after all this time, I feel like I don't really know you at all. Like with your drug dealing days. You never really talk about it."

"It's a part of my life I want to leave in the past," he shrugged.

"Is it because of what happened at the boat party?" That caught him off-guard and he sucked in a sharp breath. The downside of dating a lawyer, he supposed. "There were reports that those college kids were using utopium," Peyton continued. "You were there selling; you were there during the massacre."

"Yes," he admitted. "I hate to admit it, but it took a massacre for me to turn away from dealing. I used the chaos to get away and haven't gone back since. The ones I answered to think I'm dead." Okay, so _they_ were the dead ones, but that detail wasn't worth mentioning. His story was doing its work of making him properly sympathetic and traumatized.

In the silence after his confession, the music was slowing into its next movement. The key change made it sound sensual. They were supposed to be drinking champagne and kissing by this point. Usually Blaine didn't mind when Peyton derailed his plans, but in this case the loss of control gave him a sense of unease.

"You have an outstanding warrant for your arrest," Peyton mentioned. She fixed her eyes on him fiercely. " _Blaine_." He opened his mouth, could find no words, and promptly closed it again. It felt like things were crumbling around him and he had no idea how to stop it. "You're giving me a key to your place and yet I had to find out your real name from a police report. I can't help wondering what else you haven't told me."

Blaine's mind was spinning as fast as possible scrambling for a way to salvage this. Everything she brought up was something he should have known would come to her notice eventually. Yet it didn't cross his mind a single time from the moment they shared their first kiss. Now her reactions to him earlier made sense. If only he could stop the music, because now its tone was completely wrong for this current situation.

"You already knew I was a former drug dealer," he began slowly. "I confessed those crimes to you when we first met. As for my name, I wanted so much to get away from who I was back then. I know I should have told you, but I liked how you saw me as John Deaux, respectable businessman. Not Blaine DeBeers, drug dealer." Speaking his real name felt weird around her. He had the sudden desire to check his phone to be sure no one was buzzing him on a utopium or brain emergency.

Peyton reached for his hand and guided it to her cheek. She was difficult to read sometimes; another downside of dating a lawyer. "I believed you when you said you loved me," she said. "I don't know if I do anymore." He hadn't expected words to cause so much pain, but those did.

"I do love you, Peyton," he assured her. "What we have is real." All his lies were coming back on him, but he couldn't let this be consumed by them. It was too important. He watched her face hoping she would see the one thing he was always honest about. Blaine felt her guide his hand along her skin in a caress and at first he was heartened, but then he noticed what she was doing. "Stop." He pulled away quickly.

He didn't know how or when she found out, but she _knew_. Why else would she try making him scratch her deep enough to bleed?

"Must be easier when you're a zombie," she commented, her tone far too light for his taste. She stepped away from his touch and brushed past him to the door. Blaine didn't know what to do other than watch her. She opened the door but turned one last time.

"All you've ever done is lie and manipulate me. What we have is _nothing_. All you are to me is a big mistake." She slammed the door as she walked out.

Blaine actually died once and endured a bullet. As painful as those events were, they were cakewalk next to this. He didn't think his heart could break anymore after he killed his grandfather, and now he wasn't sure it would ever stop feeling broken. He lost her… And she had actually come by wielding all this but still letting him go on thinking everything was fine.

It was something he would have done. In a masochistic way, it made him love her more, but that emotion only made the pain worse.

He closed his eyes and listened to the music.


	14. Fourteen

_Fourteen_

In the first few days after she walked out on Blaine, Peyton was worried he would come after her. She changed the locks on her door and got a new cell phone, and told the secretaries at work to alert her the minute "John Deaux" was in the building. But there was no sign of him, and after a while she began to relax.

Only to immediately panic again when her boss became the target of the Chaos Killer. Liv telling her he was a zombie didn't make Peyton feel better; she couldn't help wondering if Blaine turned the poor guy in order to keep an eye on her. It freaked her out more than Boss's men going after the D. A. She got Major to do a sweep and be sure no more zombies were lurking the halls.

She got rid of all their pictures together and shoved the bracelet far into her closet- she didn't dare sell it on the off-chance it was stolen. And as days turned into weeks with no sign of Blaine, she felt better.

Peyton was at home going over some papers when she was interrupted by a knock. Rolling to her feet, she shuffled over to see who it was. And froze.

Blaine stood on the other side of the door wearing just his boxers and covered in dirt. How he got all the way to Peyton's door like that she had no idea, but his presence made her heart race. Peyton took a breath and opened the door.

"What do you want?"

"I know I'm the last person you want to see right now," he began, his voice hoarse, "but I didn't know where else to go. Can I come in?" Peyton debated before stepping aside, closing the door behind him.

"Take a shower," she suggested. "I still have some of your stuff you can change into."

Blaine thanked her and headed for the shower, leaving Peyton to question herself. What was she thinking letting him into her apartment? All she thought of on seeing him was that she couldn't let him stand out there in the hall and attract attention. But now he was here and she had no idea what to do. She didn't want to call her friends, and calling Clive was out, too. Besides, there was a story behind Blaine's disheveled appearance. Peyton wanted to hear it, and then maybe she would decide from there.

Blaine emerged twenty minutes later looking much better. With the dirt off he looked more pale than Peyton remembered. His hair was still wet and sticking out at weird angles. Peyton felt the smile before she was aware of it and quickly wiped it off her face again.

"So are you going to tell me what you're doing here?" she demanded.

"Boss found out I was the one ratting him out to the D. A.," he answered. The words shot through Peyton and she stared at him in horror. "He killed me," Blaine continued, drawing a finger across his neck. Now that he pointed it out, Peyton could see a line across his skin. In the back of her mind she knew that the zombie virus was associated with the person's death but having to stare at it in the face was completely different. "I've died before," he went on casually. "It's no big deal."

"So you're a zombie again." Focusing on that helped her not turn her mind back to him in his boxers, or how good he looked in those clothes and how she always liked his hair messy. "Are you okay? Did you, um… eat?"

"You don't want to know the details," he assured her. "I just wanted to warn you as soon as I could that if Boss figured me out, you might be next on his list. He already made threats to you."

"You think he's going to have me killed?" After what happened to her boss and now Blaine, the prospect did seem more likely. Blaine answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I don't know _what_ he's going to do. I just want you to be careful." Something in her face must have tipped him to what she was thinking, because he added, "Believe it or not, I do care about you, Peyton. Promise me you'll be safe."

"I… yeah. Of course." She didn't know what else to say; his words left her stunned. Him being here was really just to protect her? She didn't want to think about it too long, so she turned the subject away from it. "You didn't answer my question: are you okay?"

"It sucks that I have no sense of taste anymore and I have to restock on all my spices," he answered, "and just the thought of eating brains again makes me want to slit my own throat. But I can't complain too much. My pulse might have slowed but it's still there."

"Really?" Liv never phrased her condition that way before. Peyton knew it was to keep others from worrying, but she found herself liking Blaine's more honest approach. She reached out to place her fingers just under his jaw. His skin still felt the same to her; she was expecting him to be cold. "I can feel it. Is that why an adrenaline kick makes you go full zombie mode?"

"I like 'raging out' better, personally." Peyton thought about it and laughed.

"I saw Liv when she was red-eyed and I have to agree: 'raging out' is a much better term for it."

" _Thank_ you. Finally someone understands." They both laughed this time and their eyes met. Peyton didn't know who moved first but she found them drawing near each other, lips pressing together. A thrill ran through her against all reason and she parted her lips to invite more, one hand tangling in his hair. She felt him respond and she arched into him as he pulled her closer…

Her brain switched back on and she pulled away. "I'm sorry, I… I don't know why I just did that." Her pulse was racing again, though for a different reason this time. She needed to get a grip. This guy was a cold-blooded murderer, after all, who went after runaway teens and astronauts just to make money. "Thank you for coming here to warn me," she said, taking a few steps back just to be safe.

"Of course." Peyton didn't like the way he was looking at her. Or she liked it way too much. He was the one to break the gaze first. "I guess I should get going."

"Blaine." He turned, eyebrow raised questioningly. "I have to know something: was anything you said to me true?"

"Almost all of it," he answered. "And there's one thing that still is." Peyton knew instantly what he was talking about. She knew because she felt it too, as much as she wanted to deny or ignore it.

"Goodnight," she said pointedly, following him to the door. They stopped at the threshold just as they had done so many times before. This time he was definitely the one leaning in, but she didn't stop him. Nothing about the way they kissed had changed either, which should have worried her more than it did.

He slipped out the door after giving her one last look. She pressed her forehead against the frame. _What the hell am I doing?_


	15. Fifteen

_Fifteen_

They said a person's life flashed before their eyes in the moments before their death; Blaine was very glad that theory was wrong, because there were parts of his life he didn't want to revisit. In fact, he didn't feel all that much after the initial pain of his throat being slit. His thought process ended at _Well, shit. This sucks._

There was no light at the end of the tunnel. No pearly gates or fire and brimstone. There was nothing at all. It was like being unconscious. Then he was suddenly waking up, eyes and mouth quickly filling with dirt. He choked and clawed at the loose ground until he felt the open sky. Blaine pulled himself out and managed to get to his feet. Anger boiled in him and he barely registered the group of bird-watchers he passed by.

 _Again._ He couldn't believe he was right back to this. He didn't care the first time because he didn't know there could be an escape. Now he knew how it felt to be free of another person in his head, to savor all the food and drink he wanted, to feel his pulse rise and not lose control, Peyton…

Her name struck him with painful longing. He hadn't seen or spoken with her since the night she walked out on him. Blaine thought of her often and even though he tried to forget her with Candy, it was no good. His finger ran along his throat where the knife cut in. He owed it to her to tell her what happened.

As he trudged the familiar path to her apartment building, ignoring all the stares and the people moving to the opposite side of the street, he couldn't help asking himself _What the hell am I doing?_ He should be checking in with his dealers and the business, not going to see a woman who told him he was nothing to her. Yet he couldn't imagine going anywhere else but here. He knocked and waited for Peyton to do what she always did, and take him by surprise.

She definitely did. It would've been well within her right to not answer her door at all or to call the police, but instead she let him inside. She kept clothes he left behind. Blaine tried to analyze her body language as he scrubbed off all the dirt, but all he could think of was how much he loved those layers of socks she insisted on wearing. Feeling that love hurt but was so worth it.

Later he stood in the hall, his mind and body trying to make sense of what just happened. His mouth still held the taste of her lips, his scalp still tingling from the feel of her fingers in his hair, his body aching from being so close to hers. Blaine took a few breaths to keep from raging out. At least he was momentarily alone with his own thoughts and emotions.

Blaine felt Peyton's desire for him in those kisses. A part of her still wanted him, even after all he did, even now that he was this undead thing. He wanted so badly to believe it was true, but another part of him wondered if she was just swept up in the moment. Maybe she was already chalking up this latest embrace as another mistake.

"Peyton." He called out to her, placing his hand on the door.

"Yeah?" She was still at the door. Blaine imagined her looking through the eyehole at him, though he wasn't sure if she was waiting for him to leave or glad he was still there. Only one way to find out.

"Can I see you again?" The moment before her response felt like it stretched on forever.

"You'd better," she answered at last. That got him to smile and he let his hand drop. He was about to turn away when he heard something slide out into the hall. He picked it up and found it to be a phone number. "Call me," Peyton instructed. "I want updates on how you're doing."

"I will," Blaine assured her, his smile growing. She _did_ still care about him.

Blaine allowed the good feeling to linger for a while before turning his mind back to business. He had no way of knowing what state he would find things in when he got back to the funeral home. The FBI's presence at least gave the building some protection from Boss's retaliation, but there was every chance his dealers were killed. Blaine tried opening the door but found it locked. He pounded on it hoping someone was on the other side.

"We're closed."

"It's me," Blaine said. The door opened to reveal a relieved but anxious Don E.

"Blaine! Where've you _been_? When you didn't answer your phone I wasn't sure what to think, and then I found Candy eating brains and I knew…" He paused in his rambling to take in Blaine's appearance. "What happened to you?"

"Boss found out I was ratting on him to the D. A.," Blaine explained, "and killed me. Which means I have a lot of work to do. Call in all our dealers. We need to move fast while he thinks I'm dead." Don E hurried to obey. While he was busy with that, Blaine decided to go take care of the Candy situation.

He found her in the basement idling by the freezer. Blaine slept with her before Boss's men got to him, which meant he was already reverting. And he hadn't even noticed. At least he infected some woman who meant little to him and not Peyton.

"I'm going to tell you this one time: don't _ever_ eat the merchandise. I'll forgive you for this since I wasn't here, but don't do it again."

"Okay," she agreed. Her eyes flickered over him before lowering seductively. "I've been a bad girl." It would've been easy to take what she was offering. She was willing and already a zombie, and if he hadn't gone to see Peyton he would've been tempted. But he had, and the memory of her mouth and body were still fresh.

"Not now. I'm busy." Maybe she could act as the new zombie whore and his customers would stop complaining. She would probably do it, too; she was good about doing what she was told.

Blaine kept himself busy for the next few hours. So far Boss hadn't taken down his utopium operation and now that he had the Chaos Killer in his back pocket, Blaine could control the zombie population. Not to mention getting new clients. He had it all under reasonable control.

It was very late at night. Blaine did what he could to mix up his dealers' routines and had made a list of potential new zombie clients. Now he was on his phone deleting all the frantic voice mails and texts Don E sent him. His thumb paused and he fished out the number Peyton gave him. Blaine slowly punched in the numbers and hit the call button. It was picked up on the first ring.

"No rest for the wicked, huh?"

"Must be why I've always had insomnia," Blaine responded. "But despite what people say about lawyers, you never struck me as particularly wicked. So what are you doing awake at this hour?"

"Some Billy Idol wannabe came to my apartment earlier and told me I might be murdered by a drug lord. Makes it hard to sleep."

"I hate when that happens." That got her to laugh. Incredibly, the two of them settled into their usual banter. Blaine felt lighter just talking to her and when they finally hung up, managed to settle enough for sleep.


	16. Sixteen

_Sixteen_

She found the bracelet right where she left it: in a shoe box tucked way back in her closet. Peyton ran her thumb around the design while playing back recent events and questioning once again what she could be thinking. She could allow herself letting Blaine into her apartment and using her shower; she could even give a pass to kissing him if she excused it as being caught up in the moment. But giving him her phone number and talking to him at all hours of the day? There was no excuse or reason that made it seem better.

It didn't help that Blaine was being watched by the FBI, suspected in both the Meat Cute massacre and the Chaos Killer case. Actually it _should've_ helped- helped get her mind straight and keep Blaine at arm's length. But Peyton couldn't seem to do it.

As if to solidify this, the next time they hung out Liv brought him: "Hey, Peyton, uh… fair warning: Blaine came to the morgue the other day. He's reverted back into a zombie."

"He came to the morgue?" That was news to her. She assumed he went straight to her place.

"For the brains." _Whoa. The way he said it, I thought it was something a lot more sinister._ "I know you haven't seen or talked to him since…" Liv trailed off awkwardly before continuing. "Anyway, I thought you should know."

"I appreciate that. Let me know how things go with that cure. If Blaine reverted that means Major doesn't have that much time left, either."

"Right. Ravi gave Blaine the latest cure, so if he uses it we can see if it works on humans."

"Fingers crossed." Inwardly, Peyton's mind was spinning. It felt like everything was moving so fast: Blaine re-entering her life as a zombie, their heated kiss, and now the possibility that he could be cured again. Peyton seriously doubted he would wait very long before taking that cure. Blaine hated being a zombie and reconnecting with Peyton would motivate him even more to go back.

So as soon as she had the time, Peyton went to Shady Plots to see him. It was weird coming back here after everything that happened. Unsurprisingly, no one was at the entrance to greet her. She let herself in and tried to figure out where to look for Blaine. One of his employees solved the problem by appearing and noticing her.

"Hey. You're that A. D. A., aren't you? Wait there a minute. I have something Blaine wanted to give you." Peyton raised an eyebrow but did as she was told. A few minutes later the guy returned with a manila folder. "He made me promise I'd give it to you," he told her as he handed it over. "I think he's being a little overdramatic. Still a little shaken up about the whole being murdered and thrown in a shallow grave thing, you know? Anyway, I've got to get back to work."

Peyton was already focused on the folder and didn't even notice the guy leaving the room. Not knowing what to expect, she opened it. Inside she found a piece of paper in Blaine's handwriting. It read:

 _Peyton, for most of my life I never really experienced love. At the best of times, my father neglected me; at the worst, he abused me and allowed others to abuse me. I was always a disappointment to him. It got to the point where I just stopped trying to win his love or even his respect. My grandfather was the only person who ever truly cared for me, and my father ended up ruining him, too._

 _Then I got mixed up with Boss and dealing drugs. All I cared about was making that deal and getting my cut of the money. But I got ambitious and kept trying to get more. I've killed a lot of people to get where I am, Peyton. I've ruined a lot of lives, your friend Liv's a notable example. For a long time, I didn't even regret any of it. I never flinched before dealing a blow on some runaway kid, never gave a second thought to what I was creating as long as it put money in my pockets._

 _When I met you, things started to change. Not right away; I won't lie to you and say I immediately turned over a new leaf. But the fact that you saw good in me made me_ _want_ _to do better. I lied to you about some things but for the most part, the man you knew was all me. And I like to think a part of you still loves me. You're probably the only person alive who does._

 _Your life does not flash before your eyes as you die. I should know. Still, I hope that this time, I can at least be thinking of you. Just in case this is the end, I want to say that I love you. I love you, Peyton._

It took a moment for Peyton to understand what she was reading, and a while after that to let it sink in. Her body felt numb and it was all she could do to keep her breathing even and her hands still. She clung onto the paper tightly to keep it from falling out of her hand. Peyton took a deep breath and forced herself to walk forward into Blaine's office.

She found him in the chair with his head tilted back, mouth partially open. Music was playing softly on his computer speakers; Peyton recognized it as the song he made for her while they were still together. She approached him, mentally pleading that it not be true. That she hadn't lost him for good. Her hand trembled as she lifted it up to press against the pulse point at his throat. She did this not too long ago and was just as anxious the second time.

A steady beat met her fingers. Faster than what she felt when he showed up at her door. Her eyes cast down to the desk where an empty syringe lay in Blaine's limp hand.

"Oh, my god," she breathed out loud. "You scared me." He was just human again, and the wave of relief at this hit her so hard she was shaking.

Those few seconds when she thought he was dead made her face a terrifying truth. She placed his letter on the desk in front of him and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. If he was actually getting sleep for a change, Peyton wasn't going to disturb him.

Blaine would find the letter when he woke up, and at the bottom of the page, in Peyton's handwriting, he'd see the words: _I love you, too_.

 **~end of part one**


	17. Seventeen

**Part Two**

 _Seventeen_

Peyton expected a call back from Blaine once he woke and saw her written confession. But hours went by and she didn't hear from him. Okay, maybe he was processing all of it like she was. She was still surprised she could love him after everything that happened, but that moment when she thought he was dead and forever lost to her solidified the feeling. How to proceed from there she still wasn't sure, and maybe Blaine wasn't either.

Except the next few days were met with silence, too, and all the old questions started popping up. Was that note he left some kind of trick or lie? Was telling her about Boss a scare tactic while Blaine took up the slack in utopium sales? She didn't like coming to those conclusions when he'd seemed so genuine, but his history did not play in his favor. Of course there was always the chance that Boss's attack scared Blaine, but Peyton found that idea hard to grasp. There was no way Blaine was scared… right?

After another few days with no call from him, Peyton finally broke down and called him. He usually picked up after two rings so going to voice mail was weird. "Hey, Blaine, it's me. I haven't heard from you in a while and I just wanted to check in. Are you good coming by my office later and giving more testimony?" Yeah, she framed her call under the excuse of work. Just because she admitted she loved him, it didn't mean she would admit to calling him first.

When that yielded no response, she started to get annoyed. Was he seriously going ghost on her? She shot him a few text messages and another call. And when he did finally manage to get back to her, she was in the shower and missed the call. Hearing the message didn't make her feel any better.

"Hey, uh, I've been getting a lot of calls and texts from this number. Don't know what that's about. Sorry." _Wait, what?_ She listened to it again but it didn't make any more sense the second time around.

Fine. Face-to-face it was, then.

Peyton stepped into the funeral home not knowing what to expect. What she found was Blaine polishing the handles on a display coffin. He looked up hearing her approach and gave her a friendly smile.

"Hello. How can I help you?"

"Very funny," she said, not in the mood for his sarcastic jokes. "I'm already mad at you, so don't push your luck."

"Uh… sorry?" His smile turned into an awkward frown. "I have to tell you that I'm not really sure what I did." Wow, she was tempted to walk over there and kick him heel first. She swallowed and refused to let her feelings or assumptions about their relationship bubble out.

"You know, you've pulled some pretty horrible things in the past, but dropping the case? I thought you could at least care about that." He still looked lost; Peyton couldn't understand the purpose behind it and started grasping for reasons. "Were you threatened again? Or are you trying to pull some 'trying-to-protect-me' bullshit? I don't know which it is, but I thought better of you than that. You said you wanted to change and this case against Mister Boss was your chance to do something good. Or was all that a lie, too?"

"I'm sorry," Blaine said, visibly struggling and finally letting out a sigh of defeat, "but who is Mister Boss?"

Peyton shut her eyes against frustrated tears and turned back toward the door. What was he doing? After that letter and her confessing back to him… "Call me when you decide to get back on the case," she said, and walked out.

Once she was out she allowed herself a moment to break down. The pain and confusion mixed bitterly with her angry tears. She couldn't understand what was happening. A few days ago she was opening her heart back up to him and now he was shutting her out so completely he was pulling a memory loss act. How could it have gone so wrong so quickly?

She pulled herself out of the dark emotions. Whatever his reasons, she was not going to let Blaine do this to her again. She'd continue on without him and get Boss convicted. As for her feelings and their relationship… well. She would just have to put that aside until it stopped hurting.


	18. Eighteen

_Eighteen_

"Hey, Blaine, it's me. I haven't heard from you in a while and I just wanted to check in. Are you good coming by my office later and giving more testimony?" The first time he heard the message, he was understandably confused. He wasn't even aware he owned a phone until Don E gave it to him in case of emergencies. His curiosity had pushed him to listen, but now he had listened to it so many times he had the words memorized.

This was what he knew: his name was Blaine DeBeers, he worked for a funeral home called Shady Plots under the co-management of Don E and Chief, for some reason his doctor was the chief medical examiner for the city, and the downstairs business was a separate entity run by Don E and Chief.

Something he was quickly learning was that this woman wanted to talk to him badly. She left him several messages both by voice and by text. Finally Blaine called her back and left his own message. The words probably came out wrong, but what else was he supposed to say to someone he didn't know yet kept trying to contact him anyway?

Not long after that, a woman came to the funeral home. Clients were coming in and a lot of them seemed to know him, but none of them were like this woman. She was absolutely beautiful and carried herself with grace and confidence. She spoke and Blaine recognized her voice instantly.

 _It's you. You're the one._ The familiarity of her voice would've been a lot more comforting if she wasn't verbally beating him up. She left him feeling like he did something horribly wrong. But what did he do? Something to do with a case against some guy named Mister Boss. There was seriously a person named Boss? Blaine wondered if he had an assistant named Aide and a bodyguard called Muscle.

Blaine pulled out his phone and played her message again. _Who are you?_ Not knowing bothered him. He went to find Don E. So far the guy had helped fill in blanks, so maybe he could help unravel the mystery of this woman.

He found Don E and Chief in the basement pouring hot sauce onto sections of a brain. Weirdly, he wasn't as disturbed by this as he should've been. Something about the action bothered him, but in the same way that the woman's appearance bothered him: it was something he should know but couldn't grasp.

"Don E, I have a question about a woman."

"One of our clients? I told you they're all in the files on the computer."

"No, she's someone different. Pretty, short brown hair, wearing a power suit and heels." That made Don E pause. He set down the fork, moving to clasp Blaine on the shoulder.

"Don't worry about her, man. We were working with her but decided to cut ties."

"Oh. Okay." Was that why she was angry? There seemed to be a lot more to it than that. Something about her reactions made it seem personal. There was a lot Don E was keeping from Blaine, like the brain eating and the downstairs business. And while not knowing those things bothered him, he didn't know so many other things that they were just items on a long list. He could usually store it away and focus on forming new memories and re-learning his job.

But Blaine just couldn't stop thinking about this woman. The sting of her words, the disappointment and anger on her face, the hurt he unintentionally caused her… He knew her. How did he know her? Who was she to him? He pulled up her messages to him and stared at the texts.

"Peyton Charles." Blaine spoke her name out loud. He liked the sound of it and repeated it, closing his eyes this time to visualize her face. It didn't spark any memories but it was still a nice face to have in his mind's eye.

He needed to see his doctor again.

Blaine was understandably bewildered when Don E brought him to a morgue, of all places, to be examined. But now Ravi Chakrabarti was the only doctor Blaine knew and so it was off to the morgue for another examination. In a world where his boss ate brains and people had to clarify that he was human, why the hell not have a doctor who worked in a morgue?

"You know you can't just be dropping in like this," Ravi scolded him while checking inside Blaine's ears. The action bothered Blaine. _It's familiar, but I don't know why._ "The police have you as their prime suspect in two criminal cases."

"I don't leave a very good impression with people, do I?" Blaine asked rhetorically. "What exactly did I do?"

"How much time do you have?" Ravi retorted, and that question didn't seem rhetorical at all.

It turned out Blaine did a lot. By the time Ravi finished telling him everything, a lot of things started making more sense. The hostility, the mistrust, the anger and hurt. It was strange to hear it all because while Blaine didn't doubt Ravi's sincerity, it all still felt like deeds belonging to someone else. And none of the story triggered any of his past memories. _You'd think I'd remember killing an astronaut._

"Still having trouble with your memory?" Ravi wondered.

"I'm forming new memories just fine. I remember you and Doctor Moore, all the people at Shady Plots… I just can't remember anything from before."

"Physically you're fine," Ravi told him. "And your ability to form new memories tells me that your brain hasn't suffered permanent damage. But you should keep checking in with me when you can. The cure you used was still a work in progress."

"The zombie cure," Blaine clarified. It was still strange to think about, but the good thing about his memory loss was he found the unbelievable very easy to accept. "You cleared a lot of things up for me, doc. Thank you."

He grabbed his jacket and headed out. A lot was cleared up but not everything. Not Peyton. Blaine couldn't yet grasp what it was about her, only that he felt drawn.


	19. Nineteen

_Nineteen_

Don E went into the office that day with a question about one of their clients. He found Blaine asleep in his chair. Figuring he should let the guy rest, Don E carefully reached over to find the information himself on the computer. As he leaned forward he noticed a piece of paper on the desk. His eyes glanced over it enough to catch a few intriguing key words. Don E read the rest of it with a progressively growing frown on his lips.

Blaine woke up, jerking in surprise at the other man's sudden closeness. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, just checking on you. You weren't moving."

"It's called sleeping, Scott E," Blaine told him.

"I'm Don E," he reminded Blaine.

"Oh." Blaine looked confused for a moment, then said, "In my defense, you do look alike." While true, the mistake still made Don E a little uneasy. It wasn't like Blaine to make mistakes like that. Blaine got up from his chair without so much as a glance to the paper on his desk. Maybe he thought Don E wasn't invasive enough to read it. "I'm going to go find some aspirin."

Don E silently watched him go. Once he was out of the room, Don E snatched the paper from the desk. These words explained a lot about Blaine's behavior. Don E always figured Blaine was working with the D. A. just to stick it to Boss, but here was proof of another motivation. He wasn't sure what to do with the information yet so he stuck it in his back pocket. It was just another thing on his list of concerns surrounding Blaine.

He went back downstairs to check the inventory. They still had some Lucky U waiting to be sent out, and a few brains were up for delivery. It was usually Blaine's job to check on dealers both drug and brain, but Don E and Chief started picking up the slack. He figured Blaine wouldn't mind, since he had entrusted the business to them just in case.

It came time to close the funeral home. That again was usually Blaine's job, but Don E figured he should at least watch the procedure. He headed back upstairs but didn't see Blaine anywhere nearby. He finally showed up and was wearing the strangest expression on his face.

"Excuse me," he called to Don E. "Do you work here?"

"Very funny, Blaine." Sometimes he didn't really understand that guy's sense of humor. But there didn't seem to be any humor in Blaine's tone, and Don E's response made him frown.

"Do you know me?"

"Uh… yeah." Don E let out an awkward laugh. "I'd say I know you pretty well." When Blaine's expression didn't change, Don E added: "You feeling okay?"

"I don't know." Blaine glanced around the room, expression troubled. "I don't know how I got here. I don't know you, or… me." Don E stared at him blankly. It wasn't like Blaine to mess with someone like this. And there was that earlier confusion of mistaking Don E for his dead brother. Could this be some weird reaction to the brain he ate? It didn't seem possible, but Don E wasn't really the expert on it. Luckily, he knew two people who were. Or close enough.

"I think we need to take you to the doctor."

That was about a week ago now. Once it was clear Blaine's amnesia was real and likely permanent, Don E and Chief took full control of the operations. It turned out Blaine was right: don't underestimate the little guy. Don E found it wasn't so hard being in charge of things. Anyway, Blaine had built such a well-oiled machine that it didn't really need much except someone to keep it running. As for Blaine himself, he was easy to maintain in his condition. Don E just told him where to go and what to do, and Blaine did it.

The only snag was that A. D. A. Blaine was working with before. Don E shredded the letter but Blaine was still asking questions about her. Even Don E telling him she wasn't important wasn't enough. He couldn't help wondering why Blaine was being so persistent about a woman he didn't know.

At least he was unaware of the illegal drug ring going on in the basement. With his amnesia, he was very unpredictable in that regard.

"Boss?" Blaine popped his head down the stairs. He was making a good effort on respecting the downstairs business like Don E told him. There were definite upsides to his amnesia. "I finished all the paperwork for Mrs. Westley and I have everything set up for the visitation on Thursday. Is there anything else I can do?"

"Nah, go take a break. You still got the funeral home's address on your phone?"

"Yep." Blaine waved the device in the air. "Thank you for giving this to me, by the way."

"Sure, no problem." As far as Don E was concerned, Blaine was mostly harmless these days. What he didn't know couldn't be used to hurt the business. And that included everything about a certain Assistant District Attorney.

Don E's back was turned, dismissing the other man as he focused on more important matters. He missed the measured look Blaine gave him before the man closed the basement door.

* * *

She was suspicious, at first, when Blaine was brought to the morgue with memory problems. Yet he seemed genuinely confused as to why he was here and why being "human" mattered. The more Liv thought about it, the more she was forced to admit Blaine really was suffering from memory loss. There didn't seem to be any reason to fake it. Ravi came to the same conclusion after a talk with him outlining all of Blaine's past misdeeds.

Honestly, it was for the best. Blaine couldn't do any damage this way and with any luck, his Lucky U trade would fall apart without him at the helm. Liv would've cracked open a bottle of wine to celebrate if she had the taste buds to enjoy it.

"Ugh." Peyton flopped down on the couch face-first. She turned her face so Liv could hear her as she said, "My case against Boss is hanging by a thread. If I don't make a big bust soon, it's toast. I can't believe Blaine is doing this to me." She rolled over onto her side. "You wouldn't happen to have any former members of Boss's crew in the morgue, would you?"

"No, but the day's not over yet." Liv already knew the answer but asked the question anyway: "So what's going on with Blaine?"

"He's completely shutting he out. He didn't answer any of my calls or texts for days or even bothered showing up to our meeting at my office. When I finally confronted him, he acted like he didn't even know me or the case against Boss. Can you believe that?"

"Uh, yeah, I can." Liv had a feeling this conversation would come up eventually. She put it off longer than she should have, but she remembered how broken Peyton was when she found out Blaine's true nature. How would she react to this? "Ravi's been working on a new cure and Blaine took it. Apparently memory loss is the side-effect." She waited, but all she got from Peyton was a stunned look. "He's not faking it, Peyton. He really doesn't remember anything from before he took the cure."

"Nothing?" Peyton asked in a whisper.

"Maybe it's for the best," Liv suggested. "Because of everything." She and Peyton hadn't talked much about the romance that had bloomed. Peyton moved on from anger and hurt after some binge drinking with poor Ravi and, as far as Liv knew, more or less put it all aside. Blaine forgetting the whole thing was probably not the closure Peyton wanted, but Liv hoped it would help her friend.

Peyton must have been thinking of all this, too, because she was quiet for a long time. "Peyton?" Liv prompted her at last. "I'll help you in any way I can with your case, okay?"

"Hm?" Peyton pulled out of her thoughts. "Oh, right. Thanks, Liv. I appreciate it." She smiled, but Liv could tell her friend's mind was still on Blaine. It was hard to tell what Peyton was thinking but Liv waned to believe it would all work out for her.


	20. Twenty

_Twenty_

So Blaine honestly couldn't remember anything. The only emotion to that Peyton managed was guilt over how she reacted the last time they talked. No one could've known that the zombie cure had this as a side-effect, and once it took hold it wasn't Blaine's fault he forgot about her or about the details of Boss's utopium trade. Peyton would need to find other ways of making her case against Boss. As for their relationship, she would need to figure out what happened to that letter after she left it on his desk. He obviously hadn't seen it yet…

Either she was going to find it or try to explain it if he found it first. Peyton thought about both options as she entered the funeral home. It would've been weird just how often she visited here if the whole zombie thing didn't completely change her perspective on the word.

Again, she found the place to be fairly quiet. Since Blaine's memory was gone he probably didn't know that the office was his. Peyton went inside hoping for the best. The letter was predictably gone, but the rest of the room looked different, too. Maybe it was just her imagination. She _had_ only been in here one time before. Disappointed, she backed out and started searching the rest of the place.

She finally found Blaine in another room hooking up a television. He had an iPod in his pants pocket so he missed her coming in. Peyton hesitated in interrupting him, but then he solved the problem by turning and seeing her. His expression brightened and he turned off the iPod, pulling the buds out of his ears.

"Hello. It's good to see you again. I thought you might not drop by after last time."

"I'm dropping by _because_ of last time," she told him. "Can we sit down somewhere?"

"Sure." Blaine grabbed two fold-out chairs and set them up, settling into one of them. Peyton sat in the other, shifting so they were facing each other.

"I wanted to apologize for blowing up at you."

"You thought I was lying about the memory loss," Blaine guessed. "I understand. From what Doctor Chakrabarti told me, I wasn't a very trustworthy person. I do feel bad about not remembering anything about the case I was helping you with. I read in the papers how much progress you've been making with it."

It was hard for Peyton to judge if Blaine would really have said things like that before the memory loss. Picturing him a re-made zombie coming to warn her about Boss made her think "yes". Thinking about that too much only brought on the pain that he wouldn't remember it. She forced her thoughts away from that subject.

"I admit it's going to be hard without my star witness, but I'll manage."

"I don't doubt it." Blaine flashed her a smile. "You are a very capable woman, Peyton." Her heart couldn't help skipping a beat when she heard him say her name. But of course he just finished saying he read about her work on the Boss case; her name would've been all over that. Peyton fished around for a change of subject.

"So what were you listening to when I walked in?"

"I'm not sure. It wasn't labeled. But whatever it is, I like it." He turned the iPod back on so she could listen. Within a few notes she recognized the tune: it was the song he wrote for her while they were still together. Their eyes met and Peyton thought she could still feel energy between them. He broke the gaze first to turn off the iPod again.

 _He doesn't remember you,_ Peyton scolded herself yet again. "You have good taste in music," she said.

"Nice to know I have something going for me," he quipped, and the humor was so _Blaine_ Peyton couldn't help but laugh. "Do you think you'll be stopping by here again?" Blaine asked her. "I won't be able to help you with the case, but it'd be nice having someone other than Don E and Chief to talk to around here."

"I…" Peyton got to her feet, turning to go. "I'll try." In all honesty, she wasn't sure if she could emotionally handle being around him. It hurt too much just in these few minutes.

"Then I'll wait here all day." Peyton froze, turning back to look at him. "You know," Blaine clarified, "because I don't have anywhere else to go."

"Right." Peyton hurried out the door.

If she didn't now better, she would swear Blaine was flirting with her. Or, even more incredibly, that he was already remembering some of their history together. The way he looked at her, listening to that song… Or she could just be reading into something that wasn't there.


	21. Twenty-one

_Twenty-one_

Don E was making the mistake of assuming "amnesia" was synonymous with "gullible and stupid". Blaine allowed it since it kept him under the man's radar. He picked up very quickly that there was something probably illegal going on in the downstairs business; everything Doctor Chakrabarti told him helped to confirm that suspicion. But Blaine couldn't bust them without losing the zombie feeding business, too. He had no idea how many zombies were being supplied by them, but he did know that all of them suddenly losing their main source of food would be bad.

Blaine always waited until Don E and Chief were out of the building before going downstairs. He familiarized himself with the space, the walk-in fridge where they kept all the harvested brains, the tools used to cut open skulls, the bags used to carry their product, the guns kept in a box. That last discovery gave him the longest pause but he still filed it away in his mind along with everything else. Blaine put everything back exactly as he found it before returning upstairs. Don E and Chief would never even know he was there.

The weird thing about his amnesia was that he could form and keep new memories. He learned names and faces quickly, he could recognize songs after hearing them only once or twice, and whenever he went out he could find his way back to the funeral home without directions. What he knew about himself and his world was steadily growing, with the past still a complete blank in his head.

Okay, "blank" was the wrong word. More like "puzzle" where he could feel the pieces but didn't know what they were or how they fit together.

How he related with other people was a good example. He had most of them figured out already. Don E wanted him out of the way with Chief following the lead; Liv and Chakrabarti saw him as someone they needed to tolerate; Major didn't trust him but seemed to come to an understanding because of the amnesia. The only one he still didn't get was Peyton Charles.

Thinking of her, Blaine fired up his iPod and started listening to that song again. He was just listening to the device on shuffle when he first came across it. A few notes in and his mind was drifting to Peyton. Seeing how she reacted to it was proof that it was connected to her somehow. _They_ were connected somehow. Chakrabarti didn't mention her when he gave a rundown of all Blaine's past misdeeds, but probably because he didn't know. The guy was too bluntly honest about the rest to leave out anything. So what was it?

Concentrating on the funeral home business kept Blaine from mulling over it too much. Peyton didn't drop by, but Liv and Chakrabarti did. Major was arrested and they were cut off from the morgue.

"We keep the brains down here," Blaine told them as he led them downstairs. To his dismay, Don E was down there, too. The man flashed the two doctors a smile but Blaine saw the coldness in his eyes.

"What brings you two down here?"

"We need a brain," Liv explained. "We can't get to the morgue and Major's last meal is wearing off."

"Oh, sure, we can give you a brain… for twenty-five K a month." Liv stared at Don E in disbelief. "You gotta pay like the rest of our clients," he explained.

"Maybe you didn't understand: Major, a _zombie_ , is locked up in jail and needs to eat. If he doesn't, he could lose control and start the zombie apocalypse."

"Then I guess you need to get twenty-five thousand dollars pretty quickly," Don E concluded. Blaine kept his expression blank but on the inside he was rolling his eyes. This guy was an idiot. The situation was more important than money. "If we're done here, we really need to get back to work." Liv and Chakrabarti exchanged baffled looks but had no choice but to head back upstairs. "As for you," Don E said, turning his attention to Blaine, "I thought we discussed this. You stay out of the downstairs business."

"Right. My mistake." Blaine followed the doctors up the stairs. He overheard Liv fretting over what they were going to do now. Blaine had an idea, but he needed to wait until Don E was out of the building.

He made the arrangements and called the two doctors back. They were baffled when he presented them with a brain. "I felt bad about not being able to help you before. Don E hasn't put this one on sale yet so you should be fine, but I'll need the Tupperware back just in case."

"You're seriously just giving this to us." Liv stared at him as if she never saw him before.

"Well, yeah. You were talking about the zombie apocalypse. It doesn't sound good for anybody. I don't know who this is," he added, "but I figure it's an emergency and any brain will do." They were still stunned, but then Liv's hunger won out and she dug in.

He was surprising everybody today. Just to round it off, he got a call later that day from a familiar number.

"Liv just came home with a brain you gave her. She said the other guy wanted her to pay for it, but you just handed it over."

"Yeah." At least her tone wasn't as surprised as Liv's. Still, he couldn't help but ask: "Was I really like that before, Peyton? Would I have made her give me money?"

"No. You're smarter than that. Although," she allowed, "you might've used it to call in a favor."

"Fair enough." He liked how honest they all were about him. It made him feel like he could trust them. "None of you liked me all that much, but you certainly seem to know me very well."

"I do. I mean, we do."

"Peyton…" He caught the slip and was itching to ask her what it meant. _Who are you to me? Why do I always think about you? Why does talking with you make me feel calmer? Do you think about me, too? Can you come over for dinner?_ That last one caught him off-guard but it was very easy to picture: the two of them laughing and talking over a meal of Chinese take-out, or maybe pizza.

Blaine would have to be comatose to not be attracted to her. But that wasn't all this was.

"Let me know if you guys need another brain," he said, completely bypassing the minefield.

"I will," she promised, ending the phone call. Blaine put his phone away and went hunting for the liquor. He had a sudden longing for some whiskey.


	22. Twenty-two

_Twenty-two_

It finally happened: they let go of the case against Stacey Boss. Liv helping with the last drug bust wasn't enough, though Peyton still appreciated the effort. Peyton knew the failure was all on her. She was assigned the case; she should've been good enough to take it on and win. She was feeling pretty low and was glad Ravi was at the apartment so she could vent to him. She spewed out the negative feelings and when she was done, he gave her an encouraging smile.

"You're brilliant. You'll find a way to bounce back from this."

"I'm not sure if there _is_ a way," she sighed. "What really gets me the most is that he won. After everything I did, he still comes out of this on top."

"Makes me think about going bad," he said. "Clearly being one of the good guys isn't working out for me."

"You couldn't do it," she teased.

"Oh, I bet I could be _very_ bad," he countered. "Robbing a bank, joining a biker gang, putting an empty milk carton back in the fridge…"

"That last one is just plain _evil_." Her smile was back. Liv would always be her best friend, but it was nice knowing she had someone like Ravi around to boost her mood. His eyes met hers and he gave her a soft smile. The look on his face was familiar: she saw it before after his break-up. And just like that time, she backed away from him.

All joking aside, Ravi really was a great guy. Kind, generous, earnest, helpful, handsome, patient… Logically he was a better choice. But when he drew close to her Peyton's thoughts immediately went to Blaine. The first time that happened Blaine was just a handsome guy who engaged her in flirtatious banter. This time she was essentially a stranger to him. But she couldn't get him off her mind, and she couldn't accept what Ravi was offering.

"Thanks for the pep talk, Ravi. I think I'm just going to crack open a bottle of wine and chill out."

"Anytime." He was smiling but Peyton could tell this was not the outcome he wanted.

"You want to join me?" she offered.

"Oh, no. I want to keep what's left of my liver after last time, thanks." They shared a smile again, this one a little less heated on Ravi's end.

Ravi's unrequited longing aside, it was kind of nice having him and Major under one roof with her and Liv. She lived with those guys long enough to not mind the testosterone. The dynamics were pretty even now: two women, two men; two zombies, two humans. It wasn't going to be permanent but Peyton liked the idea of all of them under one roof.

Later Liv and Major returned with a blow-up mattress. They all pitched in to make space for it, chatting and laughing. It was almost normal.

Peyton should've known that glimpse of normalcy would be shattered. And it was shattered by Blaine arriving at her door. The last time he showed up he had some bad news to share; judging by his expression, this time was promising much of the same.

"Blaine, what are you doing here? Come inside."

"Sorry for coming by like this," he said as he took her invitation, "but I have nowhere else to go."

"Of course. Just tell me what's going on." He looked just as agitated as when he showed up as a newly-made zombie. Did he revert again?

"Some guys came into the funeral home and shot Chief. I don't think zombies come back from a bullet to the skull." Peyton felt her jaw drop, but Blaine wasn't finished yet. "I ran before they could shoot me, too."

Peyton found a seat and sank into it. _Seriously?_ This was the second time Blaine came to her after Boss put a hit on him. At least this time Blaine made it through alive. Still, the similarity between the two situations was almost funny.

"What's that look for?" Blaine wondered.

"Just having a weird sense of _déjà vu_ ," Peyton answered honestly. Blaine smiled a little and nodded.

"Yeah, it's familiar to me, too. Not the being shot at part as much as coming to you for help." His eyes fixed on hers. Not too long ago, Ravi gave her an intense look, but this one made her heart skip a beat. "You were the first person I thought of, Peyton."

"The only other people you know are Ravi, Major and Liv," Peyton reminded him, averting her eyes away from his. That had to be the reason why he was here. She didn't want to believe anything different.

"I guess that's true." Something about his tone suggested he wasn't convinced by that reasoning.

"I'm going to make some calls," Peyton said. "I have connections with Witness Protection. They can get you into protective custody."

"Thank you." Peyton made the mistake of catching his gaze again. She was pulled with such a strong urge to kiss him that she was halfway leaning in that direction before she caught herself.

"You're welcome," she said, turning away and grabbing her phone to distract herself. _Get a grip already! Now is not the time._

As she dialed, she tried convincing herself that this new development might be for the best. If being in the same room with Blaine affected her this much, some distance was probably wise. At least until the amnesia thing was settled one way or another. These moments where she hoped he _might_ start remembering were too much.


	23. Twenty-three

_Twenty-three_

It was odd what he remembered. After running from those guys, he immediately thought of Peyton and somehow knew where she lived. Did he ever go to her apartment? Something about going to her door after a near-death experience was so familiar to him. Blaine wished he could figure it out but now wasn't the time for self-reflection.

Later when Peyton was fighting for him to stay while Ravi was blatantly against it, Blaine excused himself and somehow remembered a café called Muttbowl Surfers. He chose an outdoor seat and watched patrons and their dogs go by. A few of the dogs were friendly enough to come right up to him; he rewarded then with scratches and loving rubs. He must have owned a dog at one point, because being around them here gave him such a bittersweet feeling.

He returned to Peyton's apartment when he felt he gave her and Ravi enough time to work things out. Blaine found Ravi on the floor with Peyton nowhere around.

"Boss's men took her," Ravi said when Blaine asked about her. "They wanted to draw you out."

"And why do they think I'd care about her?"

"Apparently the two of you had a relationship," Ravi answered, wincing, "though I was mercifully spared the details."

Blaine said nothing but inside he could feel another piece clicking into place. From the moment he saw her he felt a connection, and everything she did and said around him supported that feeling. There was something between them obvious enough that she was being used to draw him out. Blaine still couldn't remember the details, but they weren't important. What he did remember was enough to help her.

Guns in the basement with no Don E or Chief to stop him. Amnesia actually worked in his favor when he showed them to Ravi. He knew that contraption was for night vision but pretended ignorance. Blaine was relieved rather than bothered by how quickly a plan was forming in his mind. Hopefully Ravi wouldn't catch on; he was a doctor, meant to give life rather than take it away. Blaine needed to protect him just as much as Peyton tonight.

It all went so easy. Maybe because he was told he took lives before, or because he knew these men wouldn't hesitate in killing if given the chance, but either way Blaine didn't even hesitate in pulling the trigger. One idiot even tried using Peyton to make Blaine falter. He heard the word "girlfriend" and let it pass; there would be time to wonder about that later.

It really was odd what he remembered.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked Peyton, helping to untie her.

"No," she answered in a whisper. "No, I'm not. I'm not…" She trembled and covered her face in her hands to hide the forming tears. Again Blaine didn't hesitate and immediately took her into his arms. His fingers gently combed through her hair as he whispered soothing words, letting her sob onto him.

Having her in his arms felt right. If only it was under better circumstances. Peyton broke the embrace first, taking in shaky breaths as she wiped her face.

"We should get going before someone calls the police."

"All right," Blaine agreed. Before she could get too far away, though, Blaine gripped her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. "Peyton?" She tilted her head to meet his eyes expectantly. Even tearstained and frightened, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and Blaine was sure that would be true with or without amnesia.

"I remember… I beat you at Mortal Kombat." The declaration stunned her for a few seconds and then she cracked a smile.

"You wish."

"Care for a rematch, then?"

"You're on."

As they made their way to a baffled Ravi, still holding hands, Blaine was struck with an incredible thought:

 _I think I love this woman._

 **End**


End file.
